


Seek and Find

by everythingmurky



Series: Time demi-Lord [5]
Category: Broadchurch, Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mother-Son Relationship, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9963665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingmurky/pseuds/everythingmurky
Summary: While tracking an alien bounty hunter, the ninth doctor crosses paths with someone who shouldn't exist.(Tied to Child of Time, so spoilers and what not.)





	1. Time for a Chase

**Author's Note:**

> So I gave into the impulse to do another side story. I know I shouldn't because I've got a lot to do in order to finish the other one, but being able to rewatch season one again made me wonder how Nine would react if he knew. It took a while before the idea became more than that thought, but it is now, so I put it down on paper anyway.
> 
> It is my first real experience with writing the ninth doctor, so hopefully I didn't mess that up.

* * *

The trouble with tracking a hunter was that they knew all the tricks of the trade, the Doctor thought, grumbling to himself. He was fresh off a jaunt to the frozen Atlantic—sometimes he wondered if he had a bit of a death wish, taking a ticket on the _Titanic_ of all ships—and he would have done for a bit of a rest, but the TARDIS had picked up on something, taking him to the twenty-first century despite his intentions of staying in the vortex for few days.

She was getting a bit cheeky in her old age, not that she wasn't before.

He supposed it could be the Time War, too, though he'd rather not think much on that one. He needed to keep himself moving, keep looking for things to fix and improve—and not think again about that girl from Hendrik's. Not sure what that was, perhaps a bit of transference, a mistaken sense of need because he was fresh off the War. He didn't need anyone, even if she'd proved more capable than he would have thought.

He had done plenty without her, and he'd keep on doing them.

He wouldn't have said no to a bit of company while on this hunt, though. Long hours of waiting and watching took their toll on everyone, even Time Lords, and he couldn't do the watching from the TARDIS to have her company.

No, he was stuck out with the apes, the mindless throng, and none of them seemed to pay any attention to what was going on around them.

Not, of course, that the Aeturn were generally a threat to anyone besides their target, but when someone hired an Aeturn hunter, they were hiring some of the best, a species bred for hunting that could find anyone anywhere across the universe. Worse, across time with the right technology.

They'd turned that gift into a profitable business four centuries ago, putting them in competition with the Judoon. Aeturn were decidedly more subtle, though they were not any less violent when they found their prey.

If he knew what the Aeturn's prey was this time—no doubt some alien, too few humans were of note in this era—he could use that to trap the Aeturn. It was possible the Doctor needed to deal with the alien himself, but the Aeturn weren't always choosy about who they hunted. They didn't need a reason so much as an excuse—and money. As long as they got paid, they didn't care who they were after or how innocent they might be.

He looked over to see the Aeturn moving through the crowd. His shimmer worked on the apes, not a one of them noticed the rather canine looking alien moving through their ranks, but the Doctor had seen him. He would have changed that if he didn't know that the Aeturn would kill everyone who saw its true form, and this was a busy street.

The Doctor followed the Aeturn inside the building, up the stairs. He just needed to track it a little further, and this would all be over. Then he would go back and have a long chat with his ship.

He stopped at the landing, seeing a door open just a crack. The Aeturn was waiting for him. He shrugged. Best not keep him, then. He took out his screwdriver and walked down the hall toward the door. He was about to open it when he heard the creak behind him.

And then there was a terrific pain in his head.

* * *

When the Doctor woke, something was burning. He sat up with a groan, looking around the room. He could smell an accelerant, a crude one, but it would be enough. All he had to do was sit here, and he'd perish with the entire building. He needed to stop it before lives were lost as well as homes.

He forced himself up to his feet, frowning as he saw the walls. Photographs were taped to every available surface, and since when did Aeturn use cameras? He'd say it wasn't the hunter, but the same girl was in each of them, showing the sort of single-minded thought that the Aeturn would use.

He went to the wall, pulling off one of the photos and sticking it in his coat. Maybe she wasn't important. Maybe she was. He didn't have time to worry about that just now. First he had a fire to stop. He needed—ah, there he was. A beautiful thing, plumbing.

The Doctor pointed his screwdriver at the faucet, turning it on and then breaking the pipe so that water would flood the flat. He went into the loo, doing the same there, making sure that there was enough water flowing to combat the flames.

Good, good. Now he just had to figure out who this girl was and if she was actually the Aeturn's target.

* * *

The Doctor stood on a corner, grumbling a bit to himself about domestics as he watched the ginger from the photograph have a row with her mother and a man who—the Doctor had been able to hear that one from here—that was _not_ her father. Bloody domestics. Always mucking things about.

She ran off from both of them, and the Doctor followed on, still not seeing any sign of the Aeturn. Could have been her stalker was more of the Earthen variety, some boy at the school she seemed to be approaching or even that man she insisted wasn't the father. That was unpleasant, but the Doctor could put a stop to it, even if he needed to track an Aeturn and not an ape.

All the same, this wasn't a species that needed to reproduce so desperately that the cycle should start with children, and he wasn't really prepared to let that happen to her, though he wasn't sure she'd need his help. She'd certainly forced the man to back off when they'd been arguing.

The Doctor wasn't sure why this girl would be any sort of target for an Aeturn. She didn't seem all that unusual, even if she was a fighter. That came with being ginger, didn't it? Nothing out of the ordinary. She was just some girl.

He waited on the corner, watching her join a group of her peers. The others were joking and laughing, but she didn't join in, her one attempt at a smile not coming close to fooling anyone. Her friends nudged her, but she shook her head, waving them on.

The Doctor frowned, watching a bit longer. He supposed if he confronted her, he might get a few answers. She wasn't using a shimmer, looked pretty boringly human. Not a thing about her that should have an Aeturn's attention, not that the Doctor could see.

He needed a better prospect than this. She was too boring. Domestic problems, sure, but who didn't have them? So the man who wasn't her father was giving her grief. That didn't mean that the Aeturn was after her.

All he had was a photograph of her, one that had shown her address and led him to her, but this wasn't an Aeturn target. A girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, who had nothing to distinguish her except her ginger hair.

Nope. Too ordinary.

And yet, when she turned away from the school, the Doctor followed after her again.

* * *

The girl walked straight from the school to the train station, and the Doctor watched her buy a ticket with a frown. Maybe she knew her stalker. Maybe that flat had been her boyfriend's and she was off for a tryst of some kind. Who the hell knew?

She had to be a dead end, and he was sure he'd lost the Aeturn by now. He'd have to go to the TARDIS and start from scratch. He shouldn't have let the girl distract him. He wanted to blame her, but he'd fallen for the trap the Aeturn left for him, and it was his own doing.

He was still grumbling to himself when she got on the train. He turned to leave when the Aeturn bumped him, rushing toward the train.

The Doctor stared after him for a second, not sure he believed it, but then he roused himself, doing his own bit of running. He couldn't afford to lose that Aeturn, and he had no idea where they were going or what damage it might do on the train.

Damn it. What was it with these stupid apes and this planet, always in some kind of trouble?

* * *

Either the Aeturn wasn't interested in the girl or he had very specific instructions on what to do with her, because he hadn't made a move against her in all the time on the train. The Doctor had taken up a seat at the back of the car, wanting to be close enough to keep an eye on them both but not close enough to spook the Aeturn into any action that would get the civilians in the middle of this killed.

No, he didn't need any more deaths on his hands.

Not that he didn't find the girl strange on her own. She'd chucked her phone out the window of the train shortly after it started, and her source of amusement on this trip wasn't a mind numbing machine but a book, an honest to goodness book, and not the sort that the general masses would read.

Well, perhaps not. He supposed he shouldn't be judgmental. After all, that was Sarah Jane on the back of it where the author's photo went. She was older, and she was dressed in a way that he'd never seen her do in all the time he'd known her, but that was definitely his Sarah Jane on the book.

He shook his head. She hadn't been his Sarah Jane for years, though he was a bit glad to know she'd survived and apparently become an author. She'd been a journalist, and he knew that before, but books. Sarah Jane had books.

And this girl—she read them.

He was tempted to ask her what they were about, but he didn't want to start anything on the train. He waited. The time would come, and though he was impatient in many ways after the War, wanting and needing a reason to go on, he found he was willing to wait as the train continued on to its next stop.

Which, of course, was where it all went wrong.

* * *

The girl shoved the book in her bag and was up before the train had finished stopping, and the Doctor half wondered if she was aware of the Aeturn following her. If she was, it was a poor job, showing everyone she intended to leave, or maybe that was the point.

The Doctor trailed after her, watching her take position by the door. She was the first one off soon as it opened, barely waiting for that before jumping to the platform. He frowned, not sure what to make of that, but the Aeturn went after her, and the Doctor had no choice but to do the same.

He saw little miss ginger running toward the edge of the crowd, but this time there was a wide grin on her face, and she impacted with a tall man in an embrace that almost knocked him over.

“Dad,” she proclaimed happily, and the Doctor shook his head. Once again with the domestics.

Hold on a tick, where was that Aeturn now?

He looked around the platform. Not a canine humanoid in sight. Very strange. Very, very strange.

He shook his head, looking back to the father and daughter on the edge of the crowd. Something about him was familiar. He felt unsettled, almost ill, as he got closer to them.

“How'd you know I'd be here?”

“Oh, you know,” the man gestured between them as he answered in a Scottish accent that his daughter did not have. Strange that, though not impossible. He must have left his native land behind, and the girl's mother definitely didn't share the accent, so she'd picked up on the one parent's and not the other's. “This bloody thing has only gotten stronger since we had that run in with the one with the scarf.”

That got another beaming smile from the girl. “Oh, him. He was great. Do you think we'll see him again?”

“Dunno. Impossible to say.” Her father stopped and fixed her with a stern look. “I thought we agreed you were going back to fix things with your mother. What she did—the affair, that was between me and her, and it isn't something you get to punish her for.”

“Dad, I can't live with her. It's not even about what she did,” the girl said, though the Doctor heard himself snort, not believing that she'd let it go. Domestics. “It's about us. She doesn't understand. None of them do. I've seen things that they don't even think can exist, and I'm supposed to pretend I'm fine sitting around learning about iambic pentameter?”

“That is rubbish,” her father agreed with a grin, and the Doctor's stomach twisted up in a way that no Time Lord's should. That sense of familiar was stronger now, but he couldn't know him. He couldn't. That was impossible. “Only—don't tell your grandfather I said that. He thinks Shakespeare was a genius.”

She giggled. “Gran told me what you did in school, you know. You only swore the dog to secrecy, not her.”

“And what of that boy you claim not to like? Should I go telling him about the incident with the eggs that—”

“No!” the girl exclaimed, horrified. “You wouldn't. No. Dad, that's like—I told you. There isn't any boy. I don't like anyone.”

He gave her a look. “And who do you think you're fooling? Not only am I your father, but I'm also a trained investigator—”

“You know what I think?” she countered, impish smile on her face. “I think you should teach me to drive.”

“What? No.”

“Please?”

The man shook his head. “That won't work on me. Not only am I well aware of what you're doing to change the subject, I'm not teaching you to drive. I told you before. I have no interest in finding out if I can regenerate.”

The Doctor gaped at them. Impossible. Completely impossible.

Except—that emptiness in his head, the one that had been there since Gallifrey burned—that was also missing. Still, that was impossible. It had to be. Everyone else was gone, and that left him, only that man didn't feel like another him. He did, actually _look_ like another him. When he was in his fifth body, he'd met a fan with a strange blue suit and wild hair and that grin. That was the same man. Older, but still recognizable.

The Doctor frowned. No. Not possible. That wasn't him. He didn't have a child. All the Time Lords were gone. Gallifrey was gone. Children were impossible. This man was some kind of... aberration. Something had to have gone very wrong because he wasn't—couldn't—be real.

Unless... was it something Sarah Jane had written in her books, the ones that the girl was reading? This man and his daughter, two ordinary humans, talking about something from a book?

“Hey, I am not that bad,” she protested. “I drove the TARDIS, remember?”

“That's different. She can drive herself, and I am not going to—” the man stopped, tensing. She pulled on his arm, but he didn't acknowledge it as he moved through the crowd, making his way toward the Doctor. He stopped right in front of him, the girl at his side.

“Oh. It's you, Doctor.”

The Doctor swallowed. Nothing else for it, then. He faced the other man, folding his arms over his chest. “And who, might I ask, are you?”

“Bloody ridiculous to do this every damned time,” the other man muttered, shaking his head.

“I'll say. You haven't given me an answer, and you're larking about talking about things you've no business knowing all the while laughing and smiling—I suppose next you'll tell me I never saw the Aeturn and all of this is something in my head? Survivor's guilt making me imagine another Time Lord so I feel less alone and decidedly less sane?”

“If you want.”

“No, I do _not_ want. You know things you shouldn't know. And you had better explain that, quickly, or I might lose my patience and—”

“Dad,” she began, pulling on his arm again, “is that him? Is that Gramps?”

The Doctor stared at her. She had to be joking. No one called him Gramps, not even Susan, and she was gone. That ginger haired girl was not her. “What?”

“You wanted an explanation,” the other man said. “There it is. I'm your son.”


	2. Time for Disbelief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor doesn't take Hardy's answer well, and someone interferes with some poor timing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... I had something else I was going to say, but I don't remember it now.
> 
> What I do remember is knowing I need to say that I do actually live in America and the new season isn't broadcasting here (at least not on my cable station) so please, please... try not to spoil me too much? I'm getting the episodes soon as I can, and I have watched the first one twice now (love the banter and few other things that may need fic) but I might not be able to get hold of the others as easily, so... please?

* * *

“You can't be my son. That's not possible.”

Hardy shook his head. He was very, very tired of this happening every time he met his father—at least, any time he met one of the regenerations after the Time War, at least. So far he'd mostly dealt with the one he was almost a twin of, but it hadn't changed with this face, one that looked older but actually was younger.

“Come on, darling,” he said, nudging Daisy forward. “Let's go down the beach. You can get a 99 if you want.”

“What?” Daisy asked. “We're just going to leave him? We can't do that.”

“Your grandfather needs time to get past his idea of impossible, and I am sick of watching him do it,” Hardy told her. “You can stay if you like. It's the same thing, though. Impossible. Can't exist. Time Lords are gone. Genetically incompatible. Aberration. Heard it all multiple times, not staying for it this time.”

Hardy started walking away, thinking he'd rather have this conversation somewhere else. Daisy looked back at the Doctor, who was still frowning, muttering to himself as he did and then ran to catch up to him.

“That doesn't really happen every time, does it?”

“Every time so far except with the one with the scarf,” Hardy said. That was his father's fourth body and Hardy's second time meeting him, but that Doctor had not lived through the Time War. Daisy said he was more like that version than the one he looked like, and she'd giggled over jelly babies with him.

“Because they all died,” she said, taking hold of his hand, and he nodded. She leaned against him, sighing. “It's sad, us being the last.”

He nodded, not saying anything.

“And a bit weird.”

“Weird?”

She shrugged. “We're part alien. And no one knows. Well, sometimes I see Mum looking at me and I think she suspects something. Or she just hates that I'm so much like you.”

Hardy rolled his eyes. “What have I told you about badmouthing your mother?”

“I'm not,” Daisy said. “Though I meant what I said. It is impossible to live with her. Not only is it all awkward since she officially moved in with her boyfriend and him thinking he just becomes my dad the moment he has a bloody key—”

“Language,” Hardy said in warning, which Daisy ignored.

“And then there's the whole alien bond we share, which makes it kind of...” She stopped. “It doesn't feel right when I'm not close to you. Which is both cool and very wrong at the same time.”

“You're worried about what I'll get from our bond when you're with your boyfriend?”

“Ew,” Daisy said, making a face. “That is so—no. That—Oh, gross.”

Hardy gave her a smile, and she groaned, ducking her head against his arm. He waited, watching her, and then a moment later, her eyes were back on him, a smile on her lips.

“I missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and walking with her toward the beach. Daisy liked the boardwalk. He didn't, but he put up with it for her, and they might as well stay where the Doctor could find them after he finished his mental debate.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Did Gramps say something about an alien?”

Hardy tensed. He had. It was just in passing, one word that hadn't fully registered until she asked that question. “Aeturn.”

“Which is?”

“Trouble.”

* * *

The Doctor stood, letting the crowd pass between him and the others, frowning as he did. His son. That wasn't possible. He couldn't have a son. His family was gone. All the Time Lords were gone. Gallifrey was gone. He had made them all burn, and because he'd killed them, a child wasn't possible. The technology was gone, and his species weren't compatible with others, not like humans and their ability to breed with anyone and anything in the galaxy.

There was something off about the sense he got from the other man. It didn't feel like being around his other regenerations or like another Time Lord, not completely. He didn't understand. This wasn't—couldn't be happening.

He had to be wrong. That man was lying. How, why, the Doctor didn't know, but he knew it had to be a lie. The idea was just... impossible, and even if it wasn't, the universe was not that kind. Not to him. Someone always died, and he always paid some kind of price.

He didn't get happiness. He didn't get family. He didn't get second chances.

No other Time Lord got a second chance. No one on Gallifrey.

Why should he?

He was punished by surviving. He'd lived, and that was how he paid the debt that could never, ever be repaid. He hadn't wanted to live, but he had. He was still here, and he did what he could to set against what he'd done, but it would never be enough.

He saw the man teasing his daughter, the obvious affection between them so clear and innocent, nothing that could be connected to him. He was like poison, and he didn't do domestics. Not just for that reason, but this couldn't end well.

He had half a mind to turn around and leave. He didn't need to be drawn into whatever game it was this man was playing—he wasn't the Doctor's son—and they could just go. He'd let them pass. He didn't have to be the universe's police force.

He wasn't.

Except the Aeturn. If it had been using that flat, it was stalking the girl.

Damn it.

The Doctor ran, hurrying until he caught to the two of them. They weren't laughing now. Neither of them seemed very happy, and he wasn't sure if he was the cause of it or not. He told himself he didn't care. He wasn't getting involved.

“There are a thousand and one reasons why you shouldn't exist,” the Doctor began, and the man looked at the girl, who shook her head. “You can't be my son. It's genetically impossible—”

“I walked away so we wouldn't do this again. If that's all you've got, then go. Get out of here. Go back to the TARDIS and pretend you never saw us.”

“Dad, what about the Aeturn?”

“You know about the Aeturn?”

“You mentioned it,” his supposed son said. “As I was telling Daisy—that's Daisy, she's your granddaughter—”

“Hi,” she said, grinning at him. “I liked you better with the scarf.”

“The scarf?”

“I wouldn't complain if I were you,” the other man advised. “There's always the coat that got you the nickname Joseph.”

The Doctor grimaced. “You would mention that one. How do you even know about that?”

“Dad was saying that Aeturn are... hunters,” Daisy began, twisting up her lip a bit. “He didn't get a chance to say much, and I'm not sure that he actually knows that much. You can ramble on for hours about that kind of thing, but Dad only knows bits and pieces.”

“Don't start that again. I was raised human and was never supposed to know I was half-alien.” He turned back to the Doctor. “What was it hunting? It is here to hunt, isn't it? Do Aeturn even leave their planet if it's not to hunt?”

“No, they don't. Typically, they go after high price targets that require more subtlety than your average muscle for hire,” the Doctor explained. “Their culture has evolved to creating better, more efficient hunters all in the name of profit. Anonymity guaranteed.”

“Meaning they kill anyone who sees them or interferes with them getting their target.”

The Doctor nodded, grudgingly approving of the other man's understanding. “Yes.”

“And this Aeturn led you here, to Broadchurch?” Daisy asked. “You think he's hunting a Dyph?”

“They're harmless. And extinct.”

“That's not what Gran said. She said killer fossils.”

Frustration could be heard in the man's voice. “Your grandmother talks too bloody much. Ask him. Dyph are harmless.”

“They are,” the Doctor agreed. “Some would even call them cute.”

“Then why would this Aeturn come to Broadchurch?” Daisy asked, frowning. She folded her arms over her chest. “This isn't exactly... well, it's so small. And quiet. Would be a paradise if not for that boy that was killed and the killer that followed Dad down here.”

“You were followed by a killer?” the Doctor asked, turning to his supposed son with frown. Just who was this man?

“Detective Inspector Hardy?”

“Oh, bloody hell, not now.” He turned back to look at the speaker. “Daisy, take your grandfather back to the house, please. Use the beach trail, and do not come back into town until it's dark. I'll go head him off. And I'm not kidding. This is important.”

“I know,” she said, stepping up to kiss his cheek and then back, coming close to the Doctor. “We should go. If Olly Stephens thinks you're with Dad, you won't have a moment's peace. He's always chasing his next big story, and he's convinced Dad will bring him it.”

“That's a reporter? He barely looks like he should be out of nappies,” the Doctor said, and she laughed, a smile brightening her face, and Rassilion help him, he thought it was beautiful.

She was not his granddaughter. He had to remember that. She was part of a charming trick, one that he was almost tempted enough to believe, but he couldn't let himself. He didn't trust it. Couldn't.

Except...

Aeturn went after high value targets. People no one else could find. People others didn't believe existed. Myths, legends, the Aeturn had hunted them down and proved them real. A Time Lord was pretty damned rare nowadays.

Even rarer, though, a half Time Lord hybrid, something that shouldn't—couldn't—exist.

The Aeturn was after the Doctor's son.

* * *

“I swear if you keep this up, I'll arrest you for harassment,” Hardy said, shaking his head as the reporter finished his questions. He hated this sort of thing, and he didn't know why Miller's nephew had to be so damned persistent. This was Broadchurch. Daniel Latimer's death was an anomaly. These sort of crimes weren't typical, and so of course the nosy little prat wanted to dig up something, anything, wherever he could.

“Come on. I thought we were past all that.”

“Past it,” Hardy muttered, shaking his head. “You have the nerve to ask me about an old case, and we're past what you did on the Latimer case? We're past you writing about Lee Ashworth after I told you to leave it alone?”

“You know I've been helpful—”

Hardy snorted. “Name one occasion.”

“I brought you that tip about—”

“Don't say Jack Marshall,” Hardy muttered, turning away from him and walking along the street. He needed to get back to Daisy and his father, but he wasn't bringing a reporter near them. He knew that others had already tried. Multiple times, even. They'd thought she would talk, especially after the truth came out about her mother's involvement in the missing evidence.

“If you would just confirm—”

“No.” Hardy looked up ahead on the walk. There. That could help. “Miller! Your nephew would like a word with you.”

The reporter frowned. “I don't—she wasn't involved in that case. I need to talk to you, get your opinion on it. He could end up a free man. You worked the case. You have to feel something about it.”

“You don't want to know what I feel,” Hardy told him as Miller got closer. “There you are. Good. You handle the press.”

“We don't have a case right now,” she reminded him. “You're not officially back yet. There's that whole hang up. Um... medically.”

Hardy glared at her. Yes, the nephew knew. Little arsehole had blackmailed him with his health condition before, but that didn't excuse her talking about it. And he was only stuck in this limbo about work because he couldn't explain going from needing a pacemaker to having two hearts.

“I was actually asking him about an old case of his. Philip Baron is due to be released next week, and I wanted to see what DI Hardy felt about that.”

“Really, Oliver?” Miller asked, shaking her head. “Just go.”

“You can't tell me what to publish.”

She rubbed her head. “I didn't. I just think you're a bloody moron for asking him his opinion of anything. Go on, now. Shift it.”

Hardy watched the reporter go, frowning. Something was wrong here, and he didn't know if it was just the boy's attempt to dredge up old wounds or his father's sudden appearance, even Daisy's unexpected visit. Or all of it.

“What is it?”

“What is what?”

She snorted. “Like you aren't perfectly capable of dealing with my nephew on your own. Why did you want me running interference for you?”

“Well,” Hardy began, and then he saw it. He had to assume that was the Aeturn, that dog thing standing there and staring at him from across the street. “That.”

* * *

“Dad didn't want us going through town. And you really don't want to deal with Miller's nephew,” Daisy said, running with the Doctor back toward the high street. “Dad kind of hates him. Not that he likes much of anyone, but reporters are right up there on his shit list.”

The Doctor frowned at her. “Is that how you talk?”

“Shit is not swearing,” Daisy told him, and he clearly didn't believe that any more than her father had when she'd said that to him. She found it kind of funny, or she would have if her grandfather wasn't acting like something very bad was about to happen. She would know if her father was really in trouble, with their bond, and she wasn't getting that sense from him, but her grandfather seemed worried.

And that worried her because her grandfather hadn't really acknowledged that he was her grandfather.

“I'm just saying that if you're a nine hundred year old alien not wanting the general public to know you're out there, you probably shouldn't go running toward the reporter,” Daisy said. “Dad's fine. I'd know if he wasn't.”

“Would you now?” the Doctor asked, sounding suspicious.

“I would. Dad and I have a bond. I can sense him, he can sense me. You with the scarf made it so we could almost talk—well, we did, with the TARDIS to help, but since then not so much, but even before then... I knew when Dad was sick or hurt. He knew the same with me. It's always been like that for us,” Daisy said. She didn't bother explaining about when her father had almost died and somehow managed to cut that sense off or how badly she'd reacted to having their bond severed and not understanding what happened. “He's fine. Just irritated, which is... it's Dad. That's how he is.”

The Doctor frowned. “I don't remember you. If my fourth self met you, I'd know.”

“Not if you're always having to forget us to preserve the timeline.”

He didn't respond to that, and she wasn't sure if it was just because he didn't believe her or if he really thought he wouldn't forget. She'd hated saying goodbye to her grandfather. She hated it every time, and she could tell her Dad did, too, but the timeline kept being wrong. Maybe they'd get it right someday and the Doctor would remember, but she sometimes wondered if maybe her Dad wanted to forget, too.

“Where's the TARDIS?”

“What?”

“It's not here, is it? I saw you, earlier, on the train. You kept staring at my book, but then you probably recognized Gran, didn't you?”

“Sarah Jane is your grandmother? That's not possible. She and I were—”

“Oh, God,” Daisy said. “Don't say it. I don't want to know. And... no, she isn't, not biologically. You gave Dad to her when he was a baby, and she raised him. So, yes, she is, but no, she isn't.”

“I gave him to Sarah Jane?”

Daisy sighed. “Yes. Or... you will. It happens later, when you have another face.”

The Doctor shook his head, moving forward. “You're just making your story harder to believe.”

“Why would either of us lie? What do we gain by pretending to be half-alien? Quarter alien, in my case, since Mum is human,” Daisy said. She shook her head. That wasn't important, not really. “This isn't a con or a game. Dad almost died because he was half you and didn't know it. We're not lying.”

The Doctor didn't answer.

She reached for his hand, and he turned, frowning at her. “You're still my grandfather, no matter what face you have. It actually scares me that Dad might lose his and not look like Dad anymore, but with you... I'm just glad I can spend time with you.”

“This is entirely too domestic for me.”

She rolled her eyes, letting go of his hand. Let him be a stubborn git, then. She didn't care, not really. She should just go home and leave him here. Only she could see her father up ahead, and she might as well go toward him, especially since he'd found Ellie. Daisy had missed her, too, and little Fred. Tom not quite as much, but he was all right.

“Don't,” the Doctor said, pulling her to a stop, and she was about to yell at him when she saw it. A dog but not a dog, standing on two legs like that was normal. No one else seemed to think it wasn't, except her dad. He was staring back at the dog, aware it was a threat.

“That's the Aeturn,” Daisy said, and the Doctor nodded. “I don't understand. What is it—It's after Dad, isn't it?”

The Doctor gave her a look of pity just as the Aeturn lunged for her father.


	3. Time for Invitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aeturn goes after Hardy and creates new problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep fearing I've lost Nine's voice despite my best efforts. And then I go hinting at things in stories I haven't written yet, too.
> 
> Oops.

* * *

“What?” Ellie asked, frowning. She looked over across the street where Hardy's eyes were, but all she saw was a bloke. Ordinary looking fellow, nothing all that interesting about him. Clothes were plain, neat but not pressed, clean but not new. “That guy?”

Hardy gave her a look, like she'd spit up on her shirt, and she glared back at him, folding her arms over her chest and about to let him have it when the man from across the street rushed him, knocking him back against the wall.

He swore, hand over his shoulder which was somehow almost pouring blood over his fingers. Ellie frowned, not having seen a weapon in the man's hand. She turned, trying to catch hold of him, but just as fast as he'd come at Hardy, the man was gone again, disappearing down the alley. She heard footsteps running up to them, and Daisy calling out to her father.

“Bloody hell, sir,” she said, reaching into her bag for anything to stop the bleeding. She came up with Fred's spare blanket and folded it up, giving it to him to hold over the wound. “I don't understand. He didn't have a weapon. How'd he move that fast and do that to you?”

Hardy grit his teeth together. “Bastard bit me.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“Dad,” Daisy said, kneeling down next to her father. She turned back to the man in leather who'd run up with her. “Well, don't just stand there. Do something.”

“I'm not that kind of doctor—”

“I know that,” she snapped. “I meant go stop the big ugly alien that just attacked my dad.”

“That was an alien?” Ellie asked. She shook her head. “Don't give me that look, Hardy. He looked human. Had one of those whatsits. Perception filters.”

“Shimmer, actually,” the man in the coat said, giving her a look. She didn't know what to think of that one. “Come on. We have to get you inside before every Aeturn in the galaxy has your scent.”

Hardy grunted, trying to push himself up off the wall. The other man caught him, supporting his good side. “That's it. Lean on me. Keep pressure on the wound. You, girl, you—”

“Daisy,” she said, biting out the word angrily. “My name is Daisy. He already told you that.”

“You need to get a strong chemical, best you can find, the more noxious the better. Clean any trace of the blood off the wall.”

“That's a crime scene—”

“No,” Leather Jacket corrected. “It's an invitation. Possibly a call for help, though I've never known an Aeturn to make one. We need a place to—whoa, now. What do you think you're doing?”

“Passing out,” Hardy informed him rather matter of factly before doing just that. His eyes closed and he slumped down onto the other man, who had to move to catch him before he sagged down to the ground.

“Better not have done that on purpose,” Leather Jacket muttered, shifting so he could pick Hardy up, and damned if the man didn't look tiny held in the other man's arms. “You—you're an associate of his? Where can we take him? Some place private but defendable, if you've got such a thing.”

Ellie blinked. “Um... Take him to my car. It's up the lane. We can go to my house—”

“There isn't anything closer?”

“Are you bloody kidding me?” Ellie demanded in a harsh whisper, not wanting all of Broadchurch to hear her even as angry as she was. “He's bleeding to death after being attacked by an alien on the high street where _everyone_ saw, and you're arguing with me about getting him into a car?”

“I asked for something we could defend,” he said. “What do you think you're doing?”

“Getting my son. I'm not leaving him on the street by himself.”

“Bloody domestics.”

* * *

“You couldn't have found us somewhere that wasn't a house?” the Doctor asked, grumbling as he pushed the curtains out of the way to look out at the street. He shook his head, not liking how her neighbors were still trying to look in at them. They weren't even trying to hide it, standing out in their yards and peering at the house. He closed the curtain again, looking back at the woman.

She stared back at him. “Hardy is still unconscious, bleeding on my sofa, and you're complaining about us being in a house?”

“A house is a vulnerable position, and all of your neighbors are watching us. I keep finding myself saying it, but domestics. Why has it always got to be _domestics?”_

“As I recall, we needed to take Hardy somewhere safe, and since whatever that was attacked him, his place isn't safe, so that left mine. Broadchurch isn't that big, and there aren't many places to hide things. I suppose we could have gone to that same bloody hut, but that's still a house. There's no fortresses here. House is as good as it gets.”

The Doctor grunted. “Fine. Can't do any better, then, but you should go.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Take your son and go. This is no place for a child.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “This is my home, and you don't get to order me about. I don't care who you are, you're not in charge here. Even he's not, much as he thinks he is.”

“Where is that girl? Did she go to clean up the blood?”

“She's upstairs with Fred. That's my son, since I doubt you paid any attention to that.” She looked him over, shaking her head. “And I can't believe you want her to clean up her father's blood. What is wrong with you?”

“It's a beacon that will lead them right to him. It has to be covered up,” the Doctor told her. “The Aeturn found him, marked him for the rest of the universe to see...”

“And it can't be countered by a biodamper, I suppose.”

The Doctor frowned. “A biodamper?”

She nodded. “Ring finger, right hand.”

The Doctor went to the sofa, picking up the man's hand and examining it. On first glance, it looked like any ordinary ring, just a simple band, but he could see that it wasn't. He could almost make out some kind of engraving. He took out his sonic screwdriver, just to be sure. “Definitely a biodamper. Explains a bit.”

“Does it now?”

The Doctor nodded. He knew now why the Aeturn had to use the girl for bait. Even as good as the Aeturn were, they couldn't track through that. He'd never actually seen a biodamper this advanced before. Someone had done some tinkering. Someone rather brilliant. They'd made it so not even a race bred to track like the Aeturn could find this man. They'd had to go for his daughter instead, and it was that what kept her alive until now.

She would be expendable to them now that the Aeturn had gotten a taste of him.

He turned to the woman. “You'll need to take care of the blood.”

“Right. And what happens to them when if I go? Are you actually going to watch over him? Her? I bet my sons mean nothing to you—”

“Sons? You have two of them?”

She glared at him. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Tom's in school right now.”

“Then he's safe enough,” the Doctor said. He didn't need to another stupid ape to worry about, not when he already had too many—as well as a couple imposters. He still didn't know what he thought of this claim that he had a son—and, by extension, a granddaughter—but the Aeturn's actions were making it harder to deny.

He turned back to the other man, pointing the screwdriver at him. He bypassed the field generated by the biodamper, frowning at his results. “Impossible.”

“Bloody hell. Is that wound infected already?”

“No,” the Doctor answered. “He's... he's actually in a healing coma.”

“A what?” She came closer, kneeling down next to the sofa. “Oh, you wanker. Don't you dare do this. If you don't wake up, I swear I'll kill you myself.”

The Doctor frowned, but before he could ask about that, she was back facing him. “You said the blood was an invitation. What does that mean?”

“It's not important,” the Doctor told her. He needed to put a stop to it. The blood would draw others close, but only after the Aeturn got the word out. He had to block the signal, but to block it, he first had to find it. He needed the TARDIS. 

“I swear, I will kick you in the balls if you say something that stupid to me again,” she said. “That thing bit him and he bled like a stuffed pig. And you said that it was an invitation. More of those things will be coming down on us. Are they just after him, or is the whole bloody town at risk?”

“The Aeturn will use the blood to start a bidding war,” the Doctor admitted, watching her frown at him. “They must have competing clients, all interested in the same property. They mark the target, let their clients know they're aware of the location, and see who is willing to pay the most for the acquisition. Whoever is will pay another Aeturn to find the original hunter's mark and claim their property—or kill him, depending on what they actually want to do with him.”

She put a hand to her head, sitting down on the armrest. “You're sure they want Hardy?”

“He's an extremely rare commodity.”

“So are you,” she said, and the Doctor frowned again. “Please. If I know about him, I know about you, don't I? You're a Time Lord. Last of the Time Lords. That means you are just as rare as he is. More rare, since he's got a daughter.”

The Doctor shook his head. “Half human, half Time Lord hybrid. They're not supposed to exist. He's even rarer than I am. He shouldn't be possible. I'm a myth, a legend. He's an impossible thing.”

“He's a knob,” she muttered, and the Doctor stared at her. “I thought the point of you sending him back in time to grow up human was so that he wouldn't be found and targeted by your enemies. How'd they know to come for him?”

“Don't know,” the Doctor answered. “Must have been something he did or will do that gathers the attention of factions outside Earth—hold on, did you say I sent him back in time?”

“You gave him to Sarah Jane as a baby. She raised him as her own.”

“I wouldn't do that. Sarah Jane was off having a fantastic life. Why would I saddle her with an unwanted child?”

Standing, the woman grabbed her bag. “I'm going to go clean off that blood.”

“You didn't answer the question.”

“No, but if I stay here, I'm going to end up hurting you. God, he can be an insensitive arse half the time, but I think it might just be genetic. Don't you _dare_ say that in front of Daisy, you hear me? She actually likes you, God knows why,” she said, taking out her keys. “He's helped you more than you know, and he deserves better from you, even if he is a bloody knob.”

She slammed the door behind her, and the Doctor stood there, staring at it in confusion.

“I see you've met Miller.”

* * *

“You should still be unconscious.”

“Haven't mastered the art of a healing coma yet,” Hardy said, thoroughly wishing he had as his shoulder was throbbing, and he bet the damned thing was infected. He swallowed, forcing down whatever it was coming up his throat. “Better than last time, I think, though.”

“What happened last time?”

“I don't think I should tell you,” Hardy said, trying to ignore a certain voice muttering on about spoilers. He still didn't like that word. “You're fresh off the Time War. You won't like it.”

“How do you know that?”

“I saw your mind once. I saw you burn Gallifrey,” Hardy said, trying to force himself so he could sit up, aware of the pain visible on his father's face. “Bloody hell. You'd think that thing was all teeth.”

“Not quite,” the Doctor said. “Moving's not the best idea at the moment. The more you move, the more blood you spread about, and he's gone and made it like a homing beacon for his colleagues. They'll come once the bidding stops.”

“They're auctioning me off?” Hardy asked, frowning. “That's... new.”

“What,” the Doctor scoffed. “You haven't been auctioned off before?”

“Not unless you count the two idiots taking bets on which of their crime organizations wanted me dead more, no,” Hardy answered, leaning back against the sofa as he got a little lightheaded. He closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass.

“Crime organizations?”

“Shame Miller's missing this. Not that she believed I'd be any good at undercover work, but I once infiltrated a drug ring.” Hardy almost smiled at the memory, bitter as it was. “Got myself kidnapped by their competitors, and that's when all hell broke loose.”

“Did it now?”

“Aye. Something about me being a cop didn't sit very well with them,” Hardy said. His body did not want to stay awake. He might not be able to keep himself conscious much longer. “You need to... block their signal... and probably cauterize this wound. And... Daisy. Are they a threat to her?”

“She was just bait. They couldn't seem to find you without her.”

Hardy frowned, sitting forward. “They knew where she was and didn't go after her? Why the hell not? Not that I want her in danger, but she's your granddaughter. She's got your DNA, same as me.”

The Doctor shook his head. “Since she's your daughter and has a human mother, the alien part of her is small enough most people wouldn't even notice it. Not like you. You're... well, you're dangerous. Your mind seems capable of holding the same kind of knowledge a Time Lord possesses, and your earlier attempt at a healing coma suggests you have some of the same superior aspects of our genetics.”

“Superior my arse. Almost got me killed more than once,” Hardy muttered. He leaned back again. “Stop letting me distract you. Go block the damned signal.”

“Need the TARDIS for that.”

“Then make it come to you by remote,” Hardy snapped. “And don't tell me it can't be done. It can. Am too tired to argue about it. Just know that if you don't get it here and something happens to my daughter because of you, I will rewrite your timeline so you regenerate faster. Clear?”

The Doctor actually smiled. “As a Belaran crystal.”

“Knob,” Hardy said, already feeling the fatigue taking over again. “They're made out of obsidian.”


	4. Time for Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor tries to stop the Aeturn and ignore the fact that he has a family. Ellie wishes she could do a bit of the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got long and was not supposed to be quite like this, but in some ways, it's better for it. In others, it's probably not, but I was hoping not just to work on the plot of stopping the alien threat but also on mending a relationship that I think someone's a bit stubborn about accepting, and probably with good reason.

* * *

“Aunt Ellie?”

She refused to look back at Olly, even though she was well aware he was there and what he wanted. She had been expecting the call, but then she'd had to come fix this mess, which left her an easy target for her nephew's questions. She didn't have much choice—she wasn't about to leave the blood to mark Broadchurch as a landing place for the aliens out there hunting Hardy.

He might be one of the rarest creatures in the universe, but that did not make him worth losing the whole bloody town over, and she wouldn't let that happen.

“Go away, Olly.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, kneeling next to her as she scrubbed. She'd have to do her car next, and after that, her house. She figured the house was safe to leave for last with the Doctor there to watch over his son, and she didn't love the idea of leaving her car for anyone to attack, but at least it wasn't outdoors and right in front of bloody everyone. “I ask Hardy about Baron getting released, and then he's attacked. You really expect me to leave that alone?”

“You don't know they're connected,” Ellie told him. “Don't speculate.”

He reached over and stopped her hand. “You're cleaning up blood that should be part of a forensic investigation, and you think I'm going to ignore it? What is going on here? Why are you covering up the attack on DI Hardy?”

“Oliver, I do not have time for you or your questions,” she snapped, looking at the building again and hoping she'd managed to get all of it. She couldn't see anything right now, but that didn't mean much when it could have mixed in or splattered so small it was invisible. She stood, deciding to hell with it and threw the rest of her bucket at the wall.

Her nephew stared at her. “Ellie—”

“No,” she said, though she didn't doubt he'd keep looking into it. She'd use some of that retcon that Harkness gave her, except everyone on the street had seen it and he'd be reminded in an instant, making the whole thing useless. “You might—and this is just a possibility, don't think I'll be giving you anything if you go on bloody twitter again—get a statement later.”

She'd have to come up with some kind of cover story. Last thing she wanted was everyone knowing that aliens had been in Broadchurch, and definitely not that Hardy and his daughter were among them. Good God, what a nightmare that would be. Every case Hardy ever investigated would be suspect, and they'd be bloody screwed.

“Is Hardy dead? Who was that man that was with his daughter that helped you take him away from here? What connection does he have with—”

“I told you—you'll get a statement later. Did you take any pictures?”

“Um...”

He had, the little shit. She'd have to get them from him. Actually, she'd send Daisy for them. Olly was still a sucker for a pretty face, and while Daisy should be too young for him, she could distract him and get hold of his phone to delete any photos. Ellie had seen that girl at work, and she was definitely the daughter of two coppers.

Ellie took her phone out as she walked toward her car, dialing a number she knew too well now. “Maggie? It's Ellie. I need you to keep Olly on a leash for a bit.”

“This about what happened to DI Hardy on the high street?”

“I'll have a statement later, but until then, no speculation. Not again.”

“You have my word on it,” Maggie promised, and Ellie hoped that would be enough.

* * *

“And a little adjustment here, a tweak there, and ah ha, now we're in business,” the Doctor said, smiling before flipping the switch on the TARDIS console. He stepped back, studying the screen, even though he knew it would take a bit before the search actually found the Aeturn's transmission. It wasn't the sort of thing that would be easily isolated, alien technology or not. These apes, always broadcasting everything, mixing their signals with everyone and sending them out to the far reaches of the galaxy.

“Come on,” he urged it, wanting to speed up the search so that he could get that signal locked down and stopped before any real damage was done. If someone decided they'd rather have the goods personally instead of waiting for their Aeturn agent to buy one, this planet could find itself invaded by all sorts of hostile aliens or destroyed simply because the Doctor's alleged son was here.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, tapping the screen. “Right smack in the middle of—hold on, where is that now?”

“Sandbrook,” a voice said from behind him, and he turned round, frowning. The girl. How'd she gotten in his TARDIS? And more importantly, what was she doing bringing guests?

“What is that thing doing in here?”

She frowned and then looked at the child in her arms. “You mean Fred? I'm watching him, so he's with me.”

The Doctor bit back a groan. “And what are you doing in the TARDIS? How'd you even get in here? No one can get in here unless I let them. The hordes of Ghengis Khan couldn't manage it, but you waltz right in and—”

“She likes me,” the girl answered, and then reached under her shirt. “Plus I've got this.”

“You have a TARDIS key. To my TARDIS,” the Doctor said, staring in disbelief. “How'd you get that? Did you steal it? You took Sarah Jane's, is that it?”

“I'm not a thief, though someone in this room is,” the girl answered. “That's you, by the way. You told me yourself you stole the TARDIS. Right before you gave me the key, in fact. And no, that wasn't you with the scarf. That was another you, one I think I like better than _this_ you. He wasn't an arse.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look, my dad can be a right bastard, and I know it. He's not to me most of the time because I'm his daughter, but I've seen it happen, and there aren't many people he gets on with, but you've never treated me this awful before,” she said, crossing over to him. “I know you lost everyone on Gallifrey. Dad said you had to do horrible things in the war, but he understands them. He's done stuff like that himself, and he keeps telling me I won't have to, that I don't have to have that taint on me, but even if he does and you do—and I don't know that I believe either of you do—you don't treat me like that, are we clear?”

The Doctor turned away from her. “You're distracting me. All these domestics are getting in the way, and it needs to stop.”

“They only get in the way when you're a stubborn git,” she said. “I just told you where the signal came from. Sandbrook. It's always bloody Sandbrook.”

The Doctor willed himself not to ask. He didn't need to know. Except, he did. “What's in Sandbrook?”

“Lots of things.”

He gave her a dark look. “If you're going to be like that, you can leave.”

“Oh, now I'm worth listening to?” she asked, shaking her head. “Sandbrook isn't that far from where my mum lives now, for one thing. For another, it's where one of Dad's cases went really wrong. Mum's fault, but he took the hit for it, and it almost killed him.”

“What?”

* * *

“I swear, I'm gonna kill him,” Miller groused as she slammed her front door shut and Hardy jerked, wincing as he felt that one in his shoulder. That Aeturn must have had infected teeth. That, or he supposed he should have died already but hadn't thanks to his screwed up genetics. Bloody hell, he was sick of them ruining his life. “I really am going to kill that little shit.”

“If you are, I think... it's my duty as an officer of the law to stop you,” Hardy told her, and she almost fell as she stopped in front of the sofa.

“I thought you were in a coma.”

“I was. There's a trick to making them work, though,” he said, forcing himself to where he could sit up. “You have to actually stay unconscious. So far, I haven't.”

She sighed. “Don't move. You're getting blood all over my house, and I still need to get it off my car. You're going to lead those aliens right to us, and I'm not going to forgive you, especially when they destroy my home. This is my home, I raised my boys here, I fought to get it back after Joe killed Danny and I am not going to let anyone—not even alien bounty hunters—destroy it.”

Hardy snorted. “It's not my fault.”

“It isn't?”

“I blame my father,” he said, and while she tried not to smile, she ended up laughing.

“Fine, him, too, but he said those things were after you, not him,” she said. He shrugged, regretting it a moment later. “I told you not to move. I'm going to go get something to clean you up. If you do have to move, take off your shirt. And no smart remarks—I'm not in the mood.”

He didn't have any remarks to make. His shoulder was back to throbbing so much he couldn't think. He did manage to reach up with his good hand to fumble with unbuttoning his shirt. He had a whole two done by the time she got back.

She put the bowl on the table. “Not a word of this to anyone.”

He frowned as she took hold of his shirt, ripping it off of him. He stared of her. “I think I need to call Daisy down to defend my honor.”

“Knob,” she muttered. “It was ruined anyway, and this is faster. He said they were tracking your blood, so I want as little of it left about as possible as quickly as possible.”

He nodded, though he couldn't resist adding, “Your methods of seduction leave something to be desired, Miller.”

“Wanker,” she snapped, turning back to the bowl. She wrung out the rag and put it to the wound. He hissed in pain, and she smiled, though she did make a token effort to hide that one. “Olly thinks this is about that man who's about to be released.”

Hardy grimaced. “Bastard did say he'd kill me when he got out, but that was years ago. Still, might help, since your arsehole of a nephew will not let it go, and we are not letting him report on aliens in Broadchurch.”

“I'd be for it in the sense of it ruining his career, but we can't afford to have the nutters here—some of them aren't nutters and they'd use it to find you or something else, maybe your father or Daisy.”

“I know,” Hardy said. “Ask Maggie if she's willing to let a guest reporter of some distinction handle the press on this... case.”

“You want your mother to spin it for you?”

He did. “I might not know how to do press releases, but she sure as hell does.”

“I suppose with as much of a jerk as this particular incarnation of your father seems to be—rather like you, in fact—he hasn't so much as offered to fix you up in that ship of his,” she said, dipping the rag back in the water. He bet it was at least dark pink by now if not worse. “Why you? Why not him? He's the last of them, right?”

Hardy thought about saying something about the Master and didn't. “Yes, he is.”

“Why you?”

“Hundreds of reasons.” Hardy got the feeling she was about to smack him, so he started in on a few of them. “If they're his enemies or his people, they'd want revenge—”

“Again, on him, not you. He's more valuable, so why ignore him and mark you?”

“I shouldn't exist,” Hardy reminded her. “Though, if they were just after seeing him suffer, they'd want to use someone he cared about, and as a biological link, they'd assume he'd care regardless of the regeneration. Or it is about the freakish rarity of my genetics, and they want me for experiments. They could be interested in creating more of me or just seeing why the hell I even kind of work. Maybe they want me dead. Maybe they want me for a museum or a zoo. How should I know?”

“Fat lot of use you are,” she said, and he rolled his eyes. “How do we stop them?”

Hardy had an idea, but he knew she'd hate it, so he kept that to himself. “I thought we'd leave that to him.”

Miller frowned, looking back in time to see his father burst in through the door. “Sandbrook. What the hell happened in that place? She won't tell me.”

Hardy looked at Miller. “Since when did you get shy?”

“Not her. The girl.”

“Aye, well, don't expect her to change her mind about telling you anything if you keep insisting on pretending she doesn't have a name,” Hardy told him, and he grunted in response. He looked past his father to see his daughter coming in, Fred in her arms. “What does Sandbrook have to do with anything?”

“That's what he wants to know,” she said, “but he doesn't really care, and I don't have to tell him anything.”

Hardy turned to his father. “What did you do?”

“Me?” the Doctor asked, offended. “It was her.”

“No, I know that look and I know that tone, and I'm asking you—what did you do?”

“I swear, Dad, he's worse than you are.”

“Not possible.”

Daisy laughed, but it didn't last for very long. “Are you sure you're okay? You're not going to die or anything? Not about to pass out again? Because that shoulder—”

“I'm not dying,” he insisted, wishing Miller hadn't ruined the shirt, leaving the true state of his wound for everyone to see. “It's already healing, Daize. I swear. Just need a bit more time—”

“Uncle Alec,” Fred said, holding out his hands and trying to wiggle out of Daisy's grasp. The Doctor frowned, as did Miller. Since when did Miller's kid pick up that one? He knew she'd used it before to annoy him, but the toddler doing it, that was new.

“Not now, wee Fred.”

“I'll take him soon as I've gotten rid of this and put a bandage on your father,” Miller told Daisy. She picked up the bowl and carried it out of the room, Daisy following after her with Fred.

“Don't say it,” Hardy warned.

“Fine. Tell me about Sandbrook. Why does it matter so much the Aeturn would broadcast its signal from there? How did it know to start there? Why didn't your biodamper put them off the scent back there?”

“Because up until recently, I only had a perception filter, and that I lost in the river in Sandbrook,” Hardy told him. “That was two years ago, though, and I don't know why it would have taken them this long to find me.”

“You were raised human,” Miller called from the other room. “It's only just recently you started gallivanting about in time and space.”

The Doctor frowned. Hardy figured it was a combination of mom and copper ears working overtime. “So you never had anyone target you before now?”

“No.”

“Wait, you did?” Miller asked, coming back into the room with a first aid kit. She set it down, and Hardy knew another lecture was about to spill from her mouth. “You had rabid dog aliens attack you before?”

“No, but there are other dead aliens buried in the backyard of the ancestral home in Scotland,” Hardy said, not sure why he'd bought his mother's lies about what they were after even if he was only six. He knew he was weird by human standards even then.

“Dead aliens?” the Doctor asked, not sounding pleased.

Hardy shrugged. “I had a very good guard dog.”

* * *

“If the signal's in Sandbrook, why are you still here?”

The Doctor turned back to the man claiming to be his son, frowning. Was that even a question? Just because the woman had been able to cover over his wound didn't mean that this was over. He was still not healed, and with that wound, the Aeturn could still find him.

“A signal from the Aeturn would have been sent from its ship, right? So its ship is in Sandbrook. If you intend to find that thing, then you should be there.”

The Doctor folded his arms over his chest. “You telling me what to do?”

The other man shrugged, giving a glance toward the stairs where the women had gone. The Doctor hoped that the smallest child would be asleep and no longer involved, though it would be better if his mother wasn't so stubborn about keeping him here where the Aeturn's target was.

“Suppose you can call it force of habit,” he said. “I've been an investigator for most of my life, tend to have a certain way of running the ones I'm involved with. Of course, there's always the other option.”

“Oh?”

“It wants me, so you give me to it.”

The Doctor stared at him. “Excuse me? Why would I do that? Not only are you supposed to be my son, but you're too dangerous to be given into an Aeturn's hands. And you're wounded. We are not handing you over to them—and you are not bait, either.”

“He's not going to show himself again, and he's also not going back to that ship, even if you did disable the signal from here,” the other man said, pushing himself out of the chair. He picked up his shirt and grimaced. That thing was completely done in. “We have to give him what he wants or else we can't stop the greater threat.”

The Doctor watched him, wary. “Which is?”

“This doesn't end as long as there is someone out there willing to pay the Aeturn to hunt me. They'll send more or they'll hire someone else or they'll just get angry and destroy Earth to get to me. Go on, tell me I'm wrong.”

“You're not, but that still doesn't mean I'm handing you over to them.”

“Oh, please. You don't care about me.”

The Doctor swallowed. He didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't want to care. Caring was a problem. Still, this one wasn't like the other apes, ignorant of the way the universe worked and how fragile a balance it all had. He was even willing to risk his life to stop a threat to the planet.

“If you want to leave to deal with this situation without them knowing, now is the time. Any longer, and they'll be back.”

“I don't think you can walk,” the Doctor said, going to the other man's side and walking with him, in case he did fall over.

“I've had worse. Heart failure for almost two years. I can walk.”

“Doesn't mean you should.”

“And you don't get to lecture me. You won't acknowledge me as your son, so you don't have that right. You also don't have it as the last of the Time Lords.”

Unable to argue with that, at least right now, the Doctor said instead. "You need a change of clothes."

“The TARDIS has a wardrobe.”

“And you think there's something in there that will fit you?”

“I know there is.”

“Someone thinks a lot of himself.”

That got a snort, and the injured man stopped right in front of the TARDIS. He clapped, and the doors swung open.

The Doctor stared. “That's not possible—”

“It is, she can, and she likes me. I don't know why, but then she also likes you,” the other man said, going inside the doors.

“You won't make it to the wardrobe.”

That got the Doctor the two fingered salute as the other man walked out of the room, seeming to know where he was going. The Doctor went to the console, still frowning. His ship couldn't possibly _like_ that man.

“Why? Did the Time War damage you _that_ much?”

The TARDIS let him know how displeased she was with him for that, and when he tried to get her to take off, she wouldn't. He almost smacked the console in frustration. She knew better than this. She knew he couldn't have a son. He definitely couldn't have one that was half-human. He didn't care what the scans said. They had to be wrong.

“What if it's a trick?” the Doctor whispered. “A lie?”

He didn't know how to go back from that. Even if it wasn't a lie, he did not know how he was supposed to cope with this. How could he accept something he could lose so easily? He'd almost lost his son a few minutes after learning he existed.

“I didn't take that long, but I still figured we'd be in the vortex by now.”

The Doctor looked up from the console. While he wasn't exactly neat and tidy, he no longer showed his encounter with the Aeturn, other than the slight waver when he started to move again.

“That's the same shirt as the one you were wearing before.”

“So?”

“Out of all the shirts you could have found in the wardrobe, you found one that looked exactly like the one you were wearing before?”

“Aye. Used to drive Tess—that's my ex-wife—used to drive her barmy, me always wearing the same thing. She'd buy me all sorts of different colors and fabrics, and I'd still end up like this. I'm told that's actually a Time Lord thing.”

It was.

“There a reason we haven't left yet? Because Daisy will be here any second if we don't. We have a bond. Even if we didn't, I know her well enough. Suppose I even know Miller well enough, but it's different when it's your kid,” the other man said, rubbing a hand over his face and taking an impromptu seat on something that wasn't a chair. “We don't have a lot of time, even less now. Let's go.”

The Doctor nodded, reaching for the lever, and then he hesitated. “Are you sure? Because there might not be any going back.”

His son nodded. “I don't care what happens to me so long as she's safe, but if they're hunting me, she isn't. We stop them. Now.”


	5. Time for a Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardy and the Doctor find the Aeturn ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure why this was so hard to get done. It seemed to be near impossible, and it shouldn't have been. I made progress on the other sort of main story, but not here. Today was a bit rough for no good reason at all, and now I've come to posting, I've just had another attack of, "oh, no, it's terrible."
> 
> Most of the time I'm wrong about that, I've been told, so I'm going to ignore that feeling. I could be wrong. I'm sorry if I'm not.

* * *

“Sandbrook,” the Doctor said, going around the console to his passenger's side. The other man had gone quiet, and while the Doctor didn't think he was all that communicative in the first place, this silence could have more sinister implications. He shook the other man's shoulder.

There was a grunt, but the other man did not rouse, not so much as opening his eyes. The Doctor gave him another nudge, this time harder than the first. His hand struck out blindly, swiping the Doctor's coat but not making a real connection.

“We're there.”

That got eyes opened, and the other man groaned, turning away. “Bloody hell.”

“You always that pleasant when you wake up?”

“Oh, I'm sure you're a ray of sunshine yourself.” He put his hand over his injured shoulder. “Sandbrook?”

“Yes,” the Doctor answered. “I've got the coordinates for the origin of the signal, but in your state, perhaps you should stay here.”

“No.”

The Doctor folded his arms over his chest. “Are you always this stubborn?”

“I'm your son. What do you think?”

The Doctor shook his head, but in the end, he held out a hand to him, helping him stand up. He should not have woken him, but there was a chance it was more serious than a mild bit of lost consciousness or a possible healing coma. “Let's go, then.”

“Alec Hardy.”

“What?”

“My name. Realized I never told you what it was, just gave you Daisy's,” he said, wincing and covering his shoulder again. “Frankly, it's a bit weird, you not going about saying _allons-y, Alec_ all the time. Not that I want you to. I hate that bloody name.”

“What, Alec? Why would you hate Alec? It's good name. A meaningful name, and if you really are who you say you are, it's a bit fitting. Defender of mankind.”

“I'm a detective, not a soldier. And I could give a toss about most of humanity,” Alec muttered as he walked toward the TARDIS doors. “Where is the Aeturn's ship?”

“Should be just up the road. If you think you can make it.”

“Piss off,” Alec said, going out the doors. The Doctor followed after him, shaking his head. He should have left the other man behind, but he did need bait, and unfortunately, Alec was likely right about the Aeturn not returning to its ship without provocation. He wouldn't want to give away his means of escape or enable his enemies to find him and pressure him into telling him where the target was. That would end the bidding war.

He jogged up to catch Alec not far from the TARDIS, frowning at the vehicle across the street.

“That's the Aeturn's ship?”

“Yes,” the Doctor answered. “You saw through the perception filter, then?”

“Why should that surprise you?”

Truth was, it shouldn't. He knew that Alec was supposed to be his son, and he'd seen the scans himself. The man was half-alien. Half-human, too, but that didn't negate the other part of him. It just made it that much more—no, he didn't want to think of it that way. He didn't want to be impressed or anything of the sort. He was just doing this to end the threat the Aeturn posed to Earth, that was all.

“And how do we get in to the ship?”

“This,” the Doctor said, holding up his sonic screwdriver. “What, you don't have one?”

“No, I have three.”

“Three?”

"So far." Alec shrugged. “Each regeneration of you I meet seems to feel that I need one.”

“And you don't have it with you now... why?”

“To annoy you, obviously,” Alec answered. He rolled his eyes. “Why do you bloody think? I go around with a biodamper and perception filter to hide what I am from the general populace, and I'm going to go announcing my presence by carrying advanced alien technology in my pocket?”

The Doctor frowned. Something here didn't add up. “All that, and they still found you. Not that Aeturn aren't pretty damned determined, but the lengths they've gone to this time—”

“You're the last Time Lord in existence. And we've been over why I shouldn't exist more times than I want to think about,” Alec reminded him, prying the screwdriver from him and pointing it at the panel next to the door. Fortunately for him, it wasn't deadlock sealed. “Of course they'd go to any lengths to get at one of us. What concerns me is who they're doing it for.”

“Exactly,” the Doctor agreed, taking back the screwdriver. “What are your thoughts? I'm assuming that since they've targeted you, we might be able to narrow the field a bit.”

“Not so much,” Alec disagreed, going into the ship before the Doctor could stop him. “Your enemies do seem to be my enemies.”

“That doesn't mean they all know about you. Which ones have you seen personally?”

“Cybermen, Vashta Nerada, Judoon, Flyboln, plasmavores, Vroeyth, Sontarans...” Alec stopped, frowning. “There's more I faced without you or anything in K-9's databanks to tell me what they were. To be honest, I still don't know what we buried in the yard, and you never could remember what that other shadow was called.”

The Doctor studied him. “Any others you're leaving out?”

“I don't suppose the client list would be on the ship's computer?”

“Shouldn't be. That would be handled by others on the Aeturn homeworld,” the Doctor answered, watching him as he brought up the ship's interface. “Flyboln. How do you even know about them?”

“Rift in space and time in Cardiff and a case,” Alec said, holding out a hand. “Screwdriver.”

“I should make you go back for your own.”

“Yeah, we don't have time for that. The ship just started what looks like a take off sequence,” Alec told him, giving the Doctor a grim look. “We walked right into their trap.”

* * *

“Dad's gone again.”

Ellie set down Fred's yogurt and faced Daisy. “You're kidding.”

She shook her head. “I'm not. Dad was right. Ever since we met up with the scarf version of Gramps, we've had a much stronger bond. I think he can tell where I am with it, which is just... strange. That's not—I just know he's gone.”

“Gone in space and time or just... space?” Ellie asked, frowning. She still couldn't believe that she talked like this now, spoke of aliens and the like. She had a normal life before Hardy showed up in it, and she sometimes wanted to blame the whole damned mess on him, even if she hadn't actually met him before her husband killed Danny Latimer.

“I said he could tell where I was, not that I can do it,” Daisy told her. “I don't know, not for sure. I heard the TARDIS leave, so they could be anywhere.”

“I had Fred screaming in my ear for yogurt,” Ellie said. “Still can't believe I missed it. Well, nothing for it now. We just have to wait until they get back, and in the meantime, I think we'd better see about making sure those aliens don't do anything to the town.”

“You took care of the blood, didn't you?”

“I did, but my nephew saw me do it, which reminds me—can you get your gran here? Your dad thought that would be a way of controlling the press on this, keeping things contained so that people don't connect your father to aliens or even your grandfather. Olly could have pictures, and if he has any of the two of them—”

“I want them, and I don't want him to have them,” Daisy said. “I suppose I'll have to go in and pretend I can stand him when he makes my skin crawl a bit. He's too... greedy. Not for money, but for something he can print.”

“I know,” Ellie said. She was still angry with Olly over what happened with Jack Marshall. They'd cleared Jack, but not in time, and if Olly had just let her and Hardy do their jobs, Jack could still be alive now. Instead, he'd been villified in the press—like Hardy—only Hardy had withstood it. Jack hadn't, but then he was accused of far worse than incompetence. “Let me clean up Fred, and I'll drive you in.”

“You don't have to—”

“Rabid dog aliens attacked your father. They could come after you. I am not leaving you alone. And I want to pick up Tom. Get your mobile, call your gran, and I'll take care of Fred.”

* * *

“Usually when I walk into traps, I know it.”

“You implying this is my fault?” Hardy asked, leaning back against the wall of the Aeturn ship. He wondered if the Aeturn thought it felt at all like a dog's crate, those little cages that people kept them in that supposedly the creatures didn't mind. He couldn't see that, but then again, his dog had talked back and had a bit of an attitude, all things considered. He had never been all that claustrophobic in the past, but this place felt small, too small, pressing in on them, and he would much rather have gone wherever it was they were going in the TARDIS.

“You may have tripped something in the bypass you did on the door lock.”

Hardy shrugged. That was possible. “Doesn't mean you wouldn't have done the same thing if you'd been the one to unlock it. And it's not like this is a long range transport anyway.”

“Oh, you know that for sure, do you? You're an expert on Aeturn technology? Studied up on them in all your years spent—what, as a policeman?”

“Detective,” Hardy corrected. “And I'm not ashamed of what I am. I'm good at it. It's what I want. What I don't want is aliens coming in and mucking up my life. I'm not a bloody expert on any of them. I don't _want_ to be. I'm not you. Not like you. I had a purpose, and I never ran from it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You ran. You told me yourself you ran and you never stopped,” Hardy muttered. “As for the ship, it hasn't gone for any sort of faster than light travel, and we haven't been shunted into stasis. So unless they plan on delivering a pair of corpses in a couple hundred years, we are probably in some kind of short range transport designed to ferry the Aeturn down to the planet from a vessel in orbit. And bloody hell that sounds wrong coming from my mouth.”

The Doctor smiled a bit. “May sound wrong, but I think you're right about the transport. Which means we may not be as trapped as we thought.”

“Or we're about to be handed over to the same people that were bidding over me earlier.”

“Or that,” his father agreed. “Still, better to have a close destination than be trapped for hours or years. We can work with close.”

“You can,” Hardy said, shutting his eyes and riding out the pain that was stabbing through his shoulder again. “Not sure... how conscious I'll be when we get there.”

“I knew I should have left you in the TARDIS.”

“Go to hell. I'm the one they're after. Or am I?”

“The Aeturn had opportunities to take me. Several of them, in fact. And he didn't. He ignored me.”

“It wouldn't be the first time someone mistook me for you. Happens too bloody often for my liking, but I don't look like _this_ you. The other one... like a damned carbon copy.” Alec grit his teeth. “How dangerous is a typical Aeturn bite? I don't remember that from what K-9 told me about them. Don't remember most of it besides the name and looking like dogs. I think I even... did I tease him? The robot dog? I know I was a child, but that's so stupid...”

He heard the Doctor move, and a second later, his father was holding him upright, keeping him from falling. “The mark is meant to cause extreme pain and render the target... immobile. They want you alive for the bidding war, not necessarily conscious, and not all of their clients care if the targets live past that war. Some prolong it on purpose so that the target will die before the bidding is over.”

“Bloody fantastic.”

“Hold on. I may be able to do something about it. Should have done something back on the TARDIS.”

“'S fine. I know you're not... you don't care.”

“Take this,” the Doctor ordered, holding out a pill. “Go on. It'll help with the pain.”

“Better not be aspirin.”

“Look at me,” the Doctor said, lifting Hardy's chin. “I wouldn't do that to you. I swear. Now take this. It's just to dull the pain. You'll still feel it, but you should be able to manage it. We can't afford to have you pass out again. Even a healing coma is dangerous at this point.”

“If the Aeturn get their target... they leave, right?” Hardy asked. “They won't... go after Daisy or Miller or her family.”

“Far as we know, it stops with you.”

“Then we're good,” Hardy said, willing to accept whatever that pill might be. “When you tell Daisy, you'd better be less of an arse than you were before.”

“I'm going to do a lot better than that,” the Doctor said. “I'm bringing you back to her. Alive, and in one piece.”

“You don't know that,” Hardy told him. He forced the rest of it out despite the tightness of his throat. “I left one out. You were right. I didn't tell you about the Daleks.”

“What?”


	6. Time for Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor meets a few people who could be behind the plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I told myself I should delay this to finish more of Child of Time. Then I worked on it again and realized I was fooling myself because I didn't have the right puppet master behind the Aeturn.
> 
> I found one, so this is finally back on track. Thank goodness.

* * *

“The Daleks are dead. I used the moment, burned Gallifrey, and I killed every Dalek that was there. They couldn't be back.”

Hardy shook his head. “I wish you were right about that, but some of them survived. Enough of them for me to make enemies of them. I wasn't going to tell you, but I couldn't let you go out there without knowing that they could be waiting for you.”

The Doctor shook his head. “It's not them. It can't be them.”

Hardy didn't have the energy to argue, even if he'd been given a painkiller a minute ago. He was frustrated, since the Doctor was being stubborn and stupid, but he knew that was defense. None of his father's actions in the Time War had meaning if the Daleks survived, which was why the Doctor didn't want to hear what he had to say.

Not that he wanted to go around saying it. Wiping out an entire Dalek empire wasn't exactly something Hardy was proud of, even if he figured he'd die right afterward and wouldn't have to survive it. He also did it to spare someone else, which didn't reduce the guilt but made it a little strange instead.

“Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you.”

The Doctor ignored him. “Stay here.”

“Oh, that's a great plan. I admit I'm likely to slow you down, and the Aeturn may be able to smell me from anywhere, but I'm not staying behind on a shuttle that could take off without warning again. I might survive, but you'd be stranded, and what then? What would you do?”

“Same as I'd do without it. If you can follow me without passing out, then you do as you please. Meantime, I'm going to take a look around.”

Hardy glared at the Doctor's back as he left. He took a deep breath, let it out, and forced himself to follow. He was not staying in that shuttle, that was for damned sure.

The Doctor held up a hand, motioning for him to stay still, and Hardy heard his voice a second later. “I see I've met the welcoming committee. I don't suppose you could point me to your leader? No? Not even a hint?”

“You are not the target. Improper lifeform readings. Genetics from one species only.”

Hardy swallowed and flattened himself back against the wall. Bloody hell. He knew that voice. Well, it wasn't a voice. It was a computer generated simulation of language, the sort of thing used by the robots used by the Bresar, who refused to let their robots sound like robots. They'd been a nuisance for his mother when he was in his early days on the force, and he'd crossed their paths then, too, but he didn't know why the Aeturn would have them or why he'd be more of target for the Bresar than his mother.

“Interesting choice. Bresar hiring Aeturn? Why would they do that?”

“Erroneous information. Invasion of Bresar successful. Property of new owners.”

Oh, well that was just great. The Bresar had been invaded and defeated, and they weren't the easiest bastards to fight in the first place. If someone had defeated them—but then why have their technology and why be after him? He only knew about them because his mother had thought it was over and accidentally led them right to him when she came on an innocent visit.

“What new owners?”

“You will come with us.”

“Excellent,” the Doctor said, sounding pleased. “Take me to your leader.”

* * *

The Doctor figured that taking the lead did two things—he'd go right to the source, which tended to be useful, if not the wisest course in some cases, since a lot of sources were homicidal, but it would also allow his son some limited protection, as they might be so distracted by the Doctor's presence they wouldn't look for him.

If the man was in better shape, the plan would have been ideal. He could have counted on his son to do what any companion in the past did—find his own bit of trouble and either save the day or become the distraction, allowing the Doctor to escape.

As it was, he would have to hope this led to answers, ones he needed to end the threat to Earth and anyone else that apparently came from his son. The Aeturn were only brokers, and while his son had listed off plenty of enemies that could be a threat, the Doctor had a hard time seeing the Cybermen or the Vashta Nerada as being involved. The Judoon were like competition to the Aeturn, so not them, either. It was a little strange for the Sontarans, wasn't Flyboln at all, and there was no advantage to a plasmavore consuming him versus any normal human, so that didn't fit, either. Vroeyth, maybe. They liked complicated schemes and mind games.

He followed the Bresar robots into the main chamber. Several Aeturn were waiting at the far end, a few in full battle gear, other in what passed for diplomatic garb for them. None of them looked happy about it, but then again, their natural state was nude—at least in the eyes of the other species of the universe, wasn't like they didn't have an excess of fur—and the Doctor could almost sympathize with them for that.

Not that he minded his jumper. He quite liked this one, actually.

He continued to look around the room, taking in a few other species that he supposed could be expected. He doubted they were here for his son specifically as much as their natural greed had them vying for anything another race considered valuable.

Still, there, true to form, were the Vroeyth. He grimaced at his choice of words, since the Vroeyth never showed their true form except inside the minds of their victims, ruthlessly tormenting them in their dreams for fun.

He was a bit bothered to know his son had already had one run in with them, though it couldn't have been too bad as he seemed more or less sane, and few people came out the other side of the Vroeyth with that intact.

“Doctor,” the lead Vroeyth said, smiling and choosing to show fanged teeth as it did. “We heard rumors you were dead.”

“Exaggerated,” the Doctor told him, borrowing a page from Mark Twain, which was doubly ironic since the quote itself ended up an exaggeration as well.

“Pity.”

The Doctor smiled in turn. “Can't expect me to stay away from a good auction, can you? So, what's the prize? And the going rate? Need to see just how much I'll be spending.”

“You are fortunate the fields here limit our abilities to managing our appearances,” the Vroeyth hissed. “We would like to remind you of our feelings toward your last visit to our world.”

“Please. You didn't colonize that planet legally. You came in under the guise of nightmares and murdered half the population in their sleep, taking control of each country's leader and keeping control by fear,” he muttered. “Anything that happened to you after that was well-deserved, it would seem.”

The Vroeyth gave him another hiss before turning away. He looked around again, frowning. He still didn't see any major players here, and that bothered him. Then again, the worst offenders here might have been bidding by remote, not aboard the ship that the Aeturn were using to host their delegation.

Where was the true threat? Was it just the Vroeyth, or was there someone else out there?

* * *

Hardy grit his teeth again, feeling his shoulder in a way that made him want to curse up and down, the little outburst about bloody twitter or even his row with Tess after finding out about the affair and the lost pendant tame in comparison, but he managed to tramp down on it even as he made the pain worse by opening another door with the sonic screwdriver.

Bloody inconvenient of the Aeturn to bite him in his dominant hand, not that he hadn't given several attempts to becoming ambidextrous over the years, either out of curiosity, boredom, or necessity due to injury.

He stepped into the next room and regretted it as the smell hit his nose. As a detective, he'd been to some horrific crime scenes—Danny Latimer's death seemed so clean in comparison, very little blood or gore involved, and even the rot in Pippa's body wasn't as bad as others. He forced that basement out of his thoughts again, wishing he remembered Ailie any way other than how it had been at the end.

He faced the creature on the floor, thinking someone who knew how to comfort should have found it, not him, since he didn't see it lasting long.

It lifted its head, surprising him by being very, very human. He supposed he shouldn't be, not when he knew that even humans liked to use each other as slaves, but he still didn't like looking the evidence in the face like this.

“Wh... who...?”

Hardy shook his head. “Not important. Who do you belong to?”

The boy—he might be out of his teens now, hard to say with the rags and the hunched posture, huddled up against himself as he was. “Don't... don't know.”

Hardy frowned, not sure why aliens who kept slaves wouldn't be firm about showing them who their master was, but he didn't have to know their reasons to know that he didn't want to be purchased by them or allow them to hurt this child again.

Miller would be a mess right now. At least she wasn't here. He could do without her wittering and tears. He didn't think he'd be able to concentrate.

“Do you know why they're here?”

“They... don't tell... me that. They just... hurt.”

Hardy swallowed, again forcing back memories from a night he refused to remember, hating how close they came to this. “I need to find out who they are and what they're after. Then maybe you can go back home, wherever that is.”

“Boeshane.”

Hardy thought that sounded familiar, but not enough to where he got anything out of it. He went to the wall, pointing the screwdriver at the panel and removing it to get access to the cables underneath. Bypassing the circuits, a new image appeared on the generic screen by the door.

“What... did... you... do?”

Hardy didn't bother to explain. He pulled up the Aeturn's files, looking over the guest list. Vroeyth. Damn it. Still, he didn't see any other names that struck him as any sort of threat. He knew most of them from K-9's files, and they'd seemed stupid to his younger self, not even worth having the dog repeat the information for him to remember.

He changed the search, dragging up something else. _Offering. Hybrid lifeform. Known as the Destroyer of Worlds._

“Oh, it would be that,” he grumbled, shaking his head. Though... how did anyone know about that? The Daleks were all gone. Everyone who had been there—they were all companions of the Doctor, loyal to him. None of them would have betrayed him, not willingly. How did anyone know? And how did they know to come to after Hardy here and now?

This had all the earmarks of a bloody paradox, didn't it? And that didn't even factor in how his father was here in the form before the one that somehow conceived him.

“They... will come... back.”

“I know,” Hardy said, already pushing himself back to the door. “I won't be here when they do. I'd tell you to do the same, but from the look of you, you're not moving any time soon, and I can hardly drag myself about, so I can't do anything for you.”

“Just... stop them... Whatever they want... can't be good.”

Hardy nodded, heading off to find his father.

* * *

The Doctor saw movement out of the corner of his eye and excused himself from the Flegnum. Most of the other aliens were still watching the numbers climb higher and higher in the bidding war while talking amongst themselves, not paying him any mind, except perhaps for the Vroeyth. They wouldn't show that they were watching him, even if they were.

Still, he knew that he wouldn't learn anything of interest in this room. He had to find someplace private to do a bit of digging into the other bidders, anyone doing it by remote.

The thought occurred to him that there was a simple way to end the threat of everyone on board this ship, but he wouldn't do that. Even if they threatened his son, he knew there were other ways. It would not come to that.

He slipped out of the room, entering the halls and starting toward the private areas where the guest rooms should be. He figured he could access the records in private, and that might be enough, since he should be able to find out if any bidders were transmitting from another location.

He turned the corner and almost walked right into Alec.

“There you are. We have a problem.”

“You think?” the Doctor asked. “I've just seen the crowd here to bid on you—”

“Please. Only the Vroeyth are any real threat out of all those on that list,” Alec muttered, dismissing it out of hand. “What bothers me is that whoever did this knows not only about the hybrid thing which shouldn't be common knowledge but also that Davros called me the Destroyer of Worlds.”

“What?” the Doctor asked, frowning. “You're not that. I'm Ka Faraq Gatri.”

“You're not a hybrid. They're auctioning off a hybrid known as the Destroyer of Worlds. That's what Davros called me... when I killed the new Dalek Empire. He thought I was you—a metacrisis version of you, but still you.”

“Makes a bit of sense. Not like they shouldn't be after me. Somehow they had their information wrong—about the hybrid part, that's all,” the Doctor said. “Well, that's sorted. We'll put them back on my scent and have done with it.”

“I'm not so sure it ends there,” his son told him, and the Doctor held up a hand, not wanting to argue about it. If he took the blame off the other man and back on himself where it belonged, then he could shoulder the threat and it wouldn't be on Earth or anyone else again.

“It'll be fine. Even if you are my son, no one knows about that, and once they understand it's me they want, they'll not only call off this bidding war, they'll leave with their credibility damaged so badly we won't have anything to worry about from the Aeturn for a long, long time, if ever again.”

“Doctor—”

“Don't worry about a thing. Easily sorted. You just rest and we'll have you back to your little domestics in no time.”

“I don't do domestics any more than you do even if I do have a daughter,” Alec said. “Stop being so damned full of yourself and sure that you know everything that you won't listen to me for a damned minute. I know you don't want to hear that I had anything to do with the Daleks—”

“It didn't. You said you saw me destroy Gallifrey. You've got my memories of tricking Davros into destroying Skaros confusing you. So just drop it, and I'll go fix this.”

“Such an interesting family dynamic you have there,” someone said from behind them. “Not that mine's much better. You should probably learn to listen to the boy there, Doctor.”

Alec glared at the newcomer. Covered in filth and blood, he should have been too hurt to do anything, but he stood with weapon in hand, unwavering, and gave them a cruel smile.

“How did you know?” Alec asked. “You arranged all this. How?”

“You like my little trap?” the other man asked, grinning with obvious insanity. “I think it worked well. Maybe even too well. I figured I'd get one of you at best, but it must be my lucky day.”


	7. Time for Abduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Hardy are taken captive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had such trouble with this. I suppose because after all that it seemed too fast and sudden, like I was able to turn the tables too soon. Then I thought about the overelaborate nature of the scheme that was used on television and I think my version might actually make more sense. Or I'm actually justified in thinking I messed up. There are times when I know I should try and get a beta, but I am spectacularly bad at working with them, always writing too much or pushing them away for other reasons.
> 
> And now that I said that, I want to go hide and not post anything again (again) and so now I suppose I better just finish this thing before I do that.

* * *

“Who are you?” the Doctor asked, but the other man shook his head.

“Let's not get caught up in names,” he said. “It's not like you ever use yours. All that you really need to know is that I've come prepared. This gun is modified from a Dalek death ray. You won't regenerate if I use it.”

“You're only human,” the Doctor said, frowning at the man across from him. His eyes hardened, and he glared back, tightening his grip on the gun in his hand. “No augmentation or mutation, nothing at all extraordinary about you. I'd judge you to be about... oh, fifty-first century, and I don't remember you as any sort of historical figure from the time.”

“You really do think a lot of yourself, don't you?” he asked, snorting with derision. “You aren't better than any of us. I know what you did.”

The Doctor tensed, but his son spoke instead, keeping him from revealing too much.

“Exactly where did you find that out? Reading in the Library? Shame the Vashta Nerada didn't eat you along with everyone else,” Alec muttered. “Oh, that wasn't your source of information? Interesting. So, what else is significant about the fifty-first century?”

“The Time Agency?” the Doctor asked, looking their captor over with a frown. “He doesn't look like much of a Time Agent, though I've dealt with their ilk before. Never been terribly impressed by them, either.”

“Close,” the man said, smiling a little. “Closer than I thought you'd get so fast, at least. You surprised me, because I really didn't expect you to have any idea what was happening here. Especially not after both of you came blundering into my trap.”

The Doctor frowned, but Alec pushed on, and he was almost impressed by the man's skill as an interrogator. Wounded, at gunpoint, and yet he still seemed to be in control of the conversation with a madman.

“You used the Time Agency. No, one agent,” Alec corrected. “So you have a vortex manipulator somewhere, but coming here—that's not the only way you've messed about with time, is it?”

“Of course not. Breaking their precious rules seemed like a fun way to start, though,” the man answered with another maniacal grin. “It's amazing how far you get when people underestimate you. He thought he was some kind of hero. He'd rescued me, and I owed him everything. So I showed him everything they taught me, and boy, was he surprised.”

The Doctor grimaced. He'd dealt with plenty of megalomaniacs in his time, and none of their speeches were ever easy to hear, but this was made all the worse by the way this man-child kept smiling during it. He didn't think this particular sociopath had ever grown past a child, and that made him more dangerous in some respects than many adults.

“So you tortured him,” Alec said. “Like they tortured you. They're the same ones who invaded Bresar and destroyed them.”

“Ooh, you're almost good,” the other man said. “That I didn't expect. After all, you're the worst cop in Britain.”

“It was one bloody paper.”

“You walked right into a bullet.”

“And you just said too damn much,” Alec countered with a smile of his own, causing the other man to frown. He didn't elaborate, which angered their captor, who stepped forward, slamming him back into the wall. Blood spread across his shirt, staining the fabric as the wound reopened.

Whoever this human was, he was dangerously unstable.

“Don't think that you can trick me,” the man hissed into Alec's ear. “I don't need either of you alive.”

“No,” Alec agreed. “You do want us to suffer, though, don't you?”

“Oh, now you've got it in your head that you're clever,” the man said, shoving Alec to the side, down the hall. He started toward him, and the Doctor ran over, putting himself in between them. “Don't think you can be a hero, either. This isn't about that.”

The Doctor wasn't being a hero. He was buying time. His son seemed content to goad this man into violence, but he didn't want that. He was done with that, having seen too much of it in that endless war.

“Start walking,” the man ordered, and he probably would have kicked Alec if the Doctor wasn't in the way. “Move. Now. We're going down this corridor, and if you try anything, you'll die on the spot. Don't think you won't.”

The Doctor helped his son to his feet, and they made their way down the hall in silence.

* * *

“That was quick.”

Sarah Jane shrugged, and Ellie wondered just where she'd been to show up in Broadchurch with almost no notice at all. Had Tess called her when Daisy left her? No, they didn't get along well enough for that, so it wasn't that. She hadn't heard the TARDIS, though it wasn't impossible that the Doctor could have dropped her off from some point later in his own timeline, not that Ellie wanted to think about that.

She almost missed the days when all she did was worry about how much yogurt was on Fred's clothes and whether or not Joe was being emasculated by staying at home with the kids. She winced with the last thought, not wanting to go there again. Some days she wished she could hunt Jack down and get a pill that would erase her memories of Joe, but then how could she keep hold of her boys?

“Is there something we should know?” Ellie pushed, but Sarah Jane shook her head.

“Is it Luke?” Daisy asked. “Or did you finally meet someone?”

“Luke is fine, and since when do you have an interest in my love life?” Sarah countered, not answering the question. “I wasn't actually that far away. Weymouth. My publisher thought it would be a good idea for me to make an appearance at that Thomas Hardy event, though I can't see why. I doubt he would approve of my books.”

“Maybe someday we can go meet him,” Daisy said, and Sarah Jane smiled at her. “In the meantime, we have another writer to deal with, and he's a real pain in the arse.”

Ellie found herself wishing, again, that said pain was not her nephew. “What do you know about Philip Barron?”

Sarah Jane glanced toward her granddaughter. “Well... Not as much as Alec would, obviously. He was the arresting officer. Barron had killed his girlfriend, supposedly in a fit of rage. Alec didn't believe that part. He said that Barron had tried to make it look that way after he couldn't avoid arrest, hoping for a lesser sentence.”

“Only Hardy believed that this guy planned to kill her all along?”

“Yes.”

“There's no connection here,” Sarah Jane went on. “Even if Barron is free and has made threats against my son, he was not the one who attacked him on the high street, which makes this rather difficult.”

“Yeah, I'm starting to wish I'd nicked some of that stuff Jack has. Would make dealing with Olly easier, though someone would probably remind him since he wasn't the only one who saw Hardy get attacked today.”

“Which only makes disguising what it was more difficult,” Sarah Jane agreed. “I think we should start with going directly toward the source of the problem. The Echo is this way, isn't it?”

“Do you think you can come up with something that will keep them from knowing about Dad and Gramps?”

“Yes. You said no one else noticed that this thing... bit him?”

“I didn't even notice, and I was standing right next to him when it happened. From what I saw, the guy just shoved him against the wall and then he was bleeding. The guy looked human. The Doctor called it shimmer.”

“Then we'll go with that,” Sarah Jane said. “Alec has many detractors, and any one of them would love to throw paint on him and humiliate him.”

“You are good,” Ellie told her, and the other woman smiled back at her.

* * *

“Inside,” the gunman ordered, and Hardy let the Doctor help him in, not entirely faking his weakness. That slam to his shoulder had flared up the pain to near unbearable levels, and he was close to passing out again. He could use a bit more healing, but he figured holding on a bit longer would be worth it in the end. 

“This your ship?” his father asked after Hardy was settled, more or less, against the wall. Hardy closed his eyes, choosing to fake sleep as the Doctor took over the conversation. He knew enough already, thanks to a few small details and one slip of the tongue, but he hadn't formulated any sort of plan to counter it besides playing dead.

He hated playing dead, even if it had been an effective strategy before.

“I take it the son's the smart one.”

“Exactly what do you think you'll accomplish by insulting me? I'm not like you. You can't provoke me like that, though I admit—he played you masterfully. For a mastermind, you certainly don't have much control over your temper. It's difficult to picture you having much of an endgame here or the patience necessary to play it out. Yet somehow you still arranged all of this.”

The gunman snorted. “Like that was difficult. All you need is a bit of blood in the water for the sharks, though I made sure the message didn't get to anyone who was a real threat. If your true enemies knew about your son, you'd have whole fleets here ready to disintegrate the Earth at a moment's notice.”

“I'm sure you're aware of the paradox that would cause,” the Doctor said dryly, not amused.

“And I'm sure you know I don't care. He might care about that, but I don't. No, I came to his future so he would never know I was preparing to destroy him in his past,” the gunman said like that was funny, even laughing a bit. “Oh, your face. You're priceless. I wish your son was awake to get his reaction, too, but I can settle for yours. You think it's about one of you, don't you? So egotistical, you Time Lords. I should tell you that you're only a part of it. The last act, the final blow. The irony of you being the first pawns in the game...”

“I'm not sure you know how to play chess,” the Doctor told him, and the other man started laughing even louder than before. “It's not funny. You should know I'll stop you.”

“No, you won't. Because I have this gun... and everyone on board that ship as a hostage. You just stay put while we take off, and they'll be fine.”

That was a lie, and Hardy knew it. That whole ship would be dead as soon as they were clear of the damage radius. Trouble was, he had no idea how to stop it. He had the sonic screwdriver, but he was nowhere near the controls.

“And what happens when they find out you stole the item they're bidding on?” The Doctor asked as their smaller vessel undocked from the Aeturn's flagship.

“Oh. That. Well... I should probably have mentioned... I lied.”

The ship was rocked, shrapnel impacting the side and destabilizing it, and Hardy fell forward, way from the wall. He winced, biting back an outcry when his shoulder hit the floor. He rolled back, looking up to see the gun shift from the Doctor to him again.

“You really do think you're clever, don't you?”

“Actually,” the Doctor corrected, distracting the gunman again, “he's just really bad at using his physiology properly. He's supposed to stay unconscious to heal.”

“Oh, he shouldn't worry about that. He won't be doing any healing,” the man said, moving toward Hardy, who did the only thing he could, sticking his leg out to trip him. The gunman fell over him, and the Doctor was on him in an instant, pulling the gun from his hands. 

“You really didn't think this through, did you?” the Doctor asked him, grinning before turning back to Hardy. “Nicely done. Not sure I would have gotten this from him if he hadn't tripped over you.”

“Didn't stop him,” Hardy said, pulling himself up to the window, looking out at the debris from the destruction of the Aeturn vessel.

His father nodded. “Not in time for them, no. How are you really feeling?”

“Light-headed and sick to my stomach,” Hardy heard himself answer to his surprise. He took out the sonic screwdriver. “You think this ship will survive reentry?”

“Should be fine. You going to tell me where we need to go?”

“Torchwood. Cardiff. 2008,” Hardy said, smiling at the look their prisoner gave him. “I told you—you said too much. Now how would you like to have that family reunion on our terms?”

“Do you really think that's the only insurance I had?” the man countered. “Jack's team will still die. And so will that Time Agent.”


	8. Time for Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Hardy get help in stopping the threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is it. It kind of all fell together and worked and when it does that's as scary as it is a relief. It's either great or really wrong, and I'm feeling like it's the latter, but at least then it's done and I can do the running and hiding without having something unfinished hanging over me.

* * *

“So, let me get this straight,” Jack said, arms folded over his chest as he tried to make sense of what the man in front of him was saying. If what he was saying was true, then he supposed it made sense that he'd been able to get past the hub's security. “You're the Doctor's son, and you've come to warn me that there's a psychopath out there who wants revenge on me using both of you—and I don't even know you—to get it.”

“Oh, hell, I should have sent him to deal with you,” the other man grumbled, Scottish accent thick. “Just thought the one who wasn't bleeding should watch over the sociopath.”

“I'm not trying to be difficult,” Jack told him. “I just didn't know the Doctor had a son—not going to deny that you look like him because you do—and that's not an issue, but it is admittedly a little distracting.”

“I hate you so much, Harkness. I swear, I would let you and your entire team die, especially after my daughter was put at risk because someone wanted revenge on you, but you don't stay dead and they aren't to blame for your mistakes.”

Jack frowned. “Um... Okay, I'm just going to ignore the part about the daughter for now. Let's stick with the part about revenge and them going after my team. So... who is behind this threat? If I don't even know about you, why would someone target you? I can see the Doctor, a bit, but if whoever it was knew I traveled with the Doctor, why go after him? He's far more dangerous than I am. Resourceful and clever, too, and how could they even find him?”

“They set a trap in your future so you'd be unaware of it,” the other man answered, sitting down. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. “I assume his need to target you was born out of what you yourself said to me—that the Doctor had your loyalty and so did I.”

Jack tensed. “Well, that much is true. He does have that. I would do anything for him, and I think he knows that. It's not common knowledge. Most of my team still doesn't know I traveled with him.”

“There is some sort of... Time Agent involved. He didn't mention any names. Didn't give his, either. I just think I know who it is because of something Rose told me.”

“You know Rose? Knew Rose, I mean. She told you that before she died.”

“On second thought, it's a good thing the Doctor's not here because he would not understand half of this and I shouldn't tell him it anyway even if he will forget,” the other man said, sitting back up and opening his eyes. He faced Jack, his expression one that did not leave any room for doubt or argument. “Rose is not dead. No, I don't know how she survived, but you will see her again. You'll also meet me again about the same time. You will have to forget all of this for the sake of the timelines, and also your brother is insane.”

“My brother?” Jack asked, frowning. “John said he found Gray, but I thought he was lying. It was just something to mess with my head when he left.”

“Gray, if that is in fact your brother's name, was apparently tortured well beyond sanity, and he turned on the Time Agent that found him, using the methods he'd endured on the agent. Whoever these aliens are, they defeated the Bresar—”

“You're not kidding,” Jack said, well aware of the war that had been waged against the Bresar before his own planet fell victim to the invaders. “It's really Gray?”

“He said he was from the Boeshane peninsula. He also said he wanted to break Time Agency rules and knew too much about things that you and Torchwood witnessed. That meeting I told you is coming—and when I interrupted your chat with Copley.”

“Detective Inspector Hardy?” Jack asked, frowning again. “That's—you're—you looked different then. I swear you did.”

“I took off the perception filter to make explaining this easier,” Hardy answered. He snorted. “Obviously, it didn't help much.”

“All right. Where is the trap that Gray set? You're sure it was Gray and he's not being manipulated by someone?”

“I'll let you talk to him, but he seemed to enjoy manipulating things and killing, too,” Hardy said, crossing over to him. “Anyone is capable of murder under the right circumstances. You should know that by now. Your brother, if it is him, is not the man you knew—”

“He was a child when he was taken.”

“That fits, but don't miss the point here. He's not the person you knew. He's been changed. Maybe he can come back from it, but I watched him murder hundreds of people on a ship without a thought. Do not expect a peaceful, happy reunion.”

Jack nodded. He wanted Hardy to be wrong, but he'd lived too long to dismiss his warning completely. At least he had it, otherwise he might have thought that Gray was still a victim, and where would that have left his team?

“What do we do?”

“I was actually planning on letting him kill you.”

“What?”

* * *

“I thought you were joking,” the Doctor said, recoiling from the man his son had dragged in front of him. The unnatural state of the man had him wanting to take the TARDIS and run, unsettling as that fixed point was. “You are not bringing that on my ship.”

“This isn't your ship, it's his, and we need to do this to force Gray's hand,” Alec told him. “The idea is that we let Gray think he has what he wants due to his brother trusting him too much, and then when Jack is slowly dying, he gets Gray to admit the scheme, you save Cardiff, and we all go our separate ways. And I need a bloody aspirin.”

“If you're really my son, that would kill you.”

“That's the point,” Alec muttered, leaning back against the wall. “Jack agreed to the plan. I just want you two to go sell it. I'll do it if I have to—”

“You're about to pass out,” Jack told him. “I can do this. You just rest.”

The Doctor looked him over. “Like I trust you to do anything. All you could do after you got in here was stare at me. I know the ears are a bit big, but this is ridiculous.”

“Oh, shut it,” Alec grumbled. “He knew you before you regenerated, and he's used to the one after you. Of course he stared. To him, you're a dead man.”

“I am?”

Jack nodded. “Sorry. I didn't mean to, but it was... well, I'm actually kind of glad I got a chance to see you again. This you, I mean. I missed it. Grumpy, hard work. Made me a better man, and I owe you for that. Thank you. Let's go deal with my brother, shall we?”

The Doctor turned to Alec. “Are you sure—”

“Bloody hell. You people really do refuse to let anyone have a minute's peace. I'm trying to pass out so I can heal. Piss off.”

Jack chuckled. “I like him. Come on, Doc.”

The Doctor led him back to the holding cell. He wasn't surprised their would be kidnapper had one, not when he'd planned on taking off with them, which made it rather handy for storing the man now. And since it was capable of jumps in time, they hadn't needed any others for this little mission, though if something happened to it, they'd be stranded for several years before they managed to get back to the TARDIS. He did not care for that at all.

Jack stopped, looking at the man in the containment area. “No. It can't be. It's not possible. Gray?”

The other man's head snapped up, and he stood. “It's you. After all this time, it's you. You know I used to believe that you'd come for me. You never did. How long before you gave up, hmm? Months? Years? Decades?”

“A lot longer than that,” Jack told him. “I looked for you. I searched for you for years. You were my first thought every day.”  

“And, what, that makes it better?” Gray demanded. “Those creatures, they live to torture. They kept us just on the verge of life. I'd lie there, hemmed in by corpses, praying to become one. Because you let go of my hand. Remember?”

The Doctor could see the pain on Jack's face, the regret and the guilt. “If I could swap with you, I would.”

“Is that so?” Gray demanded. “And you think that means that I'll give you a loving reunion? Absolution? Me to say, 'it's okay, brother, I forgive you.'”

Jack nodded. “Yes. I was a child, too, Gray. I was distracted for a minute. I lost your hand. And I have suffered for it every day since. I have. I never wanted that to happen. Please. Tell me you forgive me. Let me make it up to you. I have so much I can tell you, that I can share with you.”

Gray eyed the Doctor. “He told you what I did, didn't he?”

“Yes, but even the Doctor understands grief and rage,” Jack said. “Please. You need help, that's all. Counseling. A chance. I'm willing to give it to you. What do you say, Doc?”

“I don't know, Jack. I think he may be telling you what you want to hear.”

“What if he's not?” Jack asked, and the Doctor wasn't so sure he was still acting a part. The man did want to believe that Gray could be trusted, but the Doctor had his doubts. “Please. If you had the chance to make right something from the war, wouldn't you?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said with a sigh. He would give anything to make that right, but he knew it couldn't be done. He faced Gray. “You said that Jack's team would die. That the Time Agent would.”

Jack swallowed. “Gray, that's not true. Tell me it's not.”

“It was going to be,” Gray told him. “Hart has a bomb attached to him. He does one wrong thing, and he's dead. As for your team... they'll be hit with so many threats to this city... and they'll die trying to stop them.”

“But you can stop this,” Jack said. “You will, won't you?”

“Of course. Just let me out.”

“Jack—”

He did it, pressing the control on the panel that released the containment field. “Now let them go.”

Gray laughed, that same insane laugh from before. “No, Jack. I won't. I want you to suffer. I want your life.”

He teleported out of the room, and the Doctor shook his head. “That was his master plan?”

“Apparently no one told him you were good with teleports,” Jack said with a grin. “How about you bring him back for another chat?”

“With pleasure,” the Doctor said, activating his screwdriver. Gray appeared in the cell again, frowning. The Doctor took his vortex manipulator. “I'll keep track of that for you. Don't think you can be trusted with it.”

“This isn't over,” Gray said. “You haven't won. I won't let you. I begrudge you everything. I want to rip it all from you. To leave you screaming in the dark. I will never absolve you. All of it, it's your fault. I prayed for death. Those creatures, the things they did to us. Because of you. The favorite son, the one who lived, who will always live. The only strength I have is my hatred for you.”

Jack nodded unhappily. “I know. I can see that now. I'm just glad I had friends that saw it when I would have been blind.”

* * *

“What are you going to do with him?”

“This will have to do for now,” Jack said, closing up the door to the cyrogenic chamber. “Beyond that... I don't know.”

“You think you can wake him up in a few hundred years and he'll some how be better?” Hardy demanded, shaking his head. “I don't think so. That's not how it works.”

“No, but I understand a lot more what the Doctor went through with the Master in the Year that Never Was,” Jack admitted, shaking his head. “I'm lucky. Damned lucky he was stupid enough to cross your paths before he went after my team. If he hadn't—I could have lost them all.”

Hardy shook his head. “Don't think that I share your gratitude. He used others to do his dirty work, including sending dangerous aliens after my daughter. I don't take that lightly, Harkness. You and I—we are not friends. We are not even.”

“Not even close,” Jack agreed. “I'm sorry you were dragged into this. I'm not sorry I met the Doctor or that he helped me become a better person. I'm glad I had a chance to see him again even if I have to forget it for a while. I... I do get to remember later, don't I?”

“You're not retconning yourself,” Hardy muttered. “That's too much to lose, and you can't risk it. You don't know when your friend Hart will turn up, and if you forget you locked your brother away, you could let him out and started the whole damned thing again.”

Jack frowned. “Wait, so—oh, one of you is going in my mind?”

“He is,” Hardy said. “He gets to forget as well.”

Jack laughed. “I really do like you. I look forward to meeting again when I can remember.”

“I don't.”

“You shouldn't have this,” the Doctor said, coming back into the room. “Do you have any idea what damage you could do with this sort of technology?”

“Yes,” Jack said. “And we've had this argument before, but you're not always here to defend Earth, and so much comes through the rift every day. We have to be prepared, not just for aliens, but to keep the wrong people from getting technology or experimenting with it. And as great as it's been having you around... You should probably help me forget and get your son back to his daughter.”

The Doctor turned to him. “You said I would do that? I don't do that.”

Hardy snorted. “Well, I'm bloody well not doing it. I've got no experience and no desire to, but if you'd like to be responsible for Cardiff exploding because he forgot he froze his brother and let him out again, be my guest.”

His father frowned. “What?”

“A nuclear explosion on the rift,” Hardy said. “I can see it in at least one of the timelines. I would really like to stop seeing it, too, but apparently unless we do this properly, it still happens. So would you make the pervert forget already so we can go?”

“Before you do,” Jack said, coming over to hug him. “Thank you. Not just for saving the day but for finding Gray. It wasn't what I hoped for, but it was going to be a very long eternity, waiting and wondering, living forever without ever knowing the truth.”

“Get off of me.”

“Your accent gets thicker when you're irritated.”

“You don't want to see me irritated.”

Jack grinned. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe I do.”

“I think that's enough of that,” the Doctor said. “Let's take care of that memory of yours.”

“Hold on,” Jack said, making sure he got a hug in on the Doctor, too. “I meant what I said—you made me a better man. That matters. I owe you. I know it's not what you want to hear, since that loyalty to you—and your son—is apparently what made Gray go after him, but... I would do anything either of you needed.”

“Thank you,” the Doctor said. “I think.”

* * *

“Well, the last time we had another reporter come into our office, it didn't go so well,” Maggie said, giving Olly a look, and he grimaced, looking shamefaced, like he should. His dalliance with Karen White had caused a lot of problems. Ellie was surprised she hadn't been out to push Hardy after the Sandbrook case was done, but maybe she'd learned her lesson.

Hopefully Olly would, too.

“Oh, I wouldn't think that this could do much harm,” Sarah Jane said, giving Maggie a smile. “Unless you have something against those of us who branched out into writing novels instead of always pursuing a story.”

“Best place for fiction is in a novel,” Maggie said, smiling. Ellie did think Sarah Jane had won her over, which was good. “Still, I have to admit, it's not every day someone as well known as you are comes knocking on my door. Olly here thought there was more to the incident on the high street today, and then you come, and I admit, that reporter's instinct is going into overdrive.”

“I was in Weymouth,” Sarah told her. “And really, there isn't much to the incident. Alec was hit with paint, DS Miller helped him get away to clean up, and then she came back and dealt with the vandalism. Really, the story here is that Alec owes Ellie another favor, which isn't much to report at all. I'm afraid if he had published something else, you would have had a severe embarrassment on your hands.”

“I already do,” Maggie said, and Olly stared at her. She smiled. “Easy, petal. I still like having you around, but it's not like I've forgotten about that tweet or the Lee Ashworth story.”

“Reporters tend to have long memories,” Sarah Jane said, still smiling pleasantly. Ellie still found it hard to believe that woman had raised the unending grouch that was Alec Hardy. This version of his father explained a lot, though.

“Kind of like detectives.”

“You really expect me to believe that was just paint?” Olly asked. “It didn't look like paint. It looked like blood. And no one has seen Hardy since the attack, either.”

Ellie was about to explain that one when the door opened, jingling the bells as it did. Speak of the devil, and there he was. Daisy ran over to his side, hugging him. He smiled at her, holding her close for a minute.

Maggie turned to Olly. “He doesn't look injured to me, and we should know. We saw him when he was hiding a heart condition.”

“But...”

“Detective Inspector Hardy,” Maggie said, coming around the counter. “Can we have a quote from you regarding the attack earlier?”

“No.”

“See?”

“Come on, Daize. I've had my favorite shirt ruined by paint, I think there's still some in my hair, and I can't believe I found you in a bloody newspaper office,” Hardy said, tugging his daughter by the arm. “Not a word about a 99. Your mother called.”

“Did you at least tell her she's dating a wanker?”

“That is not something you can print in your paper,” Sarah Jane said, giving Olly a pointed look. “Alec, if you have a minute—”

“Not now, Mother,” Hardy said, leaving the office with his daughter. Maggie and Olly stared at the door. She recovered first, and Olly's mouth was still hanging open when she addressed Sarah Jane.

“Mother?”

Sarah Jane shrugged with a smile before going after her son.

“Did you know?” Maggie asked Ellie, and she nodded, not feeling like dying it. “Unbelievable. I thought his mother was dead. Instead, she's Sarah Jane Smith. He could have had her set the record straight after Sandbrook. Even one article in his favor from her, and he could have changed so much of that vitriol against him. He never did.”

Ellie frowned. “Why do I get the feeling this is your story now?”

“Oh, come on, Auntie Ellie. She's a bonafide celebrity, and you know we don't get many of those around here. Plus... he seems more like he was raised feral in rural Scotland or something, but he has a mother. Now this is a story.”

Ellie shook her head, pushing the door open and going after the others. She jogged up to them, catching them halfway up the street. “You know that was dumb, right? Olly's preparing to print a story on you being his mother now.”

“Better that than the Barron thing or worse, the Doctor,” Sarah Jane said. “I'm not ashamed of my son. I never have been. And I'm willing to let my privacy be invaded a bit if it means keeping him and Daisy safe. Last thing we need is a repeat of this incident.”

“Yeah, of course,” Ellie agreed. She turned to Hardy. “It is over, right? I'm not going to have to worry about aliens coming to my house chasing your blood, am I?”

He shook his head. “Weather will be strange for the next few days as the wreckage hits the atmosphere, but it's done. The Aeturn ship was blown up—don't look at me like that, Miller. That was the work of someone who didn't want to pay for what he was after.”

She frowned. “Who?”

“Some arsehole from the fifty-first century,” Hardy answered. “Bloody time travel.”

“Makes a mess of everything,” she said, reminded of what he'd told her before. “What about your father? Did he already go?”

Hardy shook his head. “No, he's still here. Not sure why.”

“Better be so he can say goodbye like less of a knob.”

“Daisy!”

* * *

“Took you long enough.”

“What was the point in hurrying?” his son countered. “You weren't expected to stick around anyway.”

The Doctor frowned, not sure why he'd think that, but then he'd tried not to get involved in all these domestics, and now it seemed that had actually made it worse than participating. His granddaughter looked angry enough to resort to violence, Miller also seemed annoyed, and even Sarah Jane did not appear pleased to see him.

He chose to start with her. “It's been a long time, Sarah.”

She nodded. “It has. And still I'm glad to see you. I didn't think I'd get a chance to meet this version of you. The one I did meet said he'd regenerated half a dozen times since you left me in Aberdeen—”

“Croydon.”

“Aberdeen,” she insisted. “This isn't a bad face, though the look isn't as much you as some of the other ones I've known. You tended toward suits.”

“And opera cloaks,” the Doctor agreed, making her smile. The girl frowned, but he ignored it, not in the mood to discuss too many of his wardrobe choices right now. “It seems I should—”

“Oh, I thanked you for that time—will thank you for it in the future. Traveling with you was amazing, and I don't regret it, and before you say anything else, I'm glad you chose me to give Alec to. I am. I loved every minute of raising him, and he gave us both Daisy. It was all worth it,” Sarah Jane said, going over to hug him. “Thank you. And thank you for keeping him safe again.”

The Doctor nodded, not sure what else to say to her. She stepped back, and they stood there in a bit of an awkward silence.

“Don't look at me,” Miller said. “I'm not hugging you.”

Daisy giggled. “Isn't that what you told Dad?”

“Yeah, so? I don't hug him, either.”

“Oh, please, Miller. I saw you hug Pinstripes. Twice.”

 _“He_ hugged me. I didn't touch him,” Miller insisted. “I didn't.”

The Doctor shook his head. This was not a good idea, and he knew he'd fought with her, but he saw this woman as a part of his son's family, one way or another, and she had helped him after the Aeturn attacked.

“You might want to rethink your choice of friends,” he told her, but then he hugged her anyway, making the girl laugh again. He caught his son smiling before the other man deliberately looked away.

“Wanker,” Miller muttered as she moved back.

“She means that with affection,” Daisy told him. “She says the same thing to Dad all the time, but we all know she cares.”

“That we do, Daisy.”

“Oh, so you know my name now?” Daisy asked, and her eyes were a bit bright. “You know, it's pretty shit you keep going off and leaving like you do.”

He nodded, and she came over to his side, wrapping her arms around him. He held on tight, knowing he'd done the last thing he wanted, let them in and started to care. It had happened back before the Aeturn ship, he was sure, and even though he would forget this, it hurt to know what he had to walk away from, what he was giving up.

“Be careful, Gramps,” Daisy said, kissing his cheek. “And dibs on one of those jumpers, yeah?”

“When I remember this, I'll give you one,” he promised. He took a breath and turned to his son. “I do remember you later, don't I?”

Alec nodded. “Aye.”

“Doesn't make this any easier,” the Doctor admitted, and his son agreed with another nod. “How many times—”

“At least six so far.”

“And you still do it?”

Alec shrugged. “You're my father. That doesn't change. Not that I always want to acknowledge it, but it's not just about blood or genetics. Hell, that's probably why it's so bloody irritating that you never seem to understand that I can exist.”

“You exist,” the Doctor said, pulling him into his arms and getting a grunt of protest.

“Have you met Rose yet?”

“What?” the Doctor asked, almost jerking out of the hug.

“Trust me on this,” Alec said, keeping his voice low so no one else could hear. “You need her. None of this is possible without her. If you met her, but she didn't go with you, go back. I don't care if you usually don't. Do it. It's important.”

“You shouldn't tell me stuff like that,” the Doctor said, but the other man didn't back down, even when they were no longer hugging.

“You needed to hear it. You need to hear a lot of things, but even if I was willing to say them, you won't remember them. Just know that if you ever want to start healing, I've given you the first step,” Alec said. Then he turned. “Not a bloody word, Miller. This is not about me.”

She stared at him. “What was I gonna say? Quit putting words in my mouth, you wanker. Now give your dad another hug so he can go and there's no paradox. I do not want to deal with another paradox. Makes my head hurt trying to figure that stuff out.”

The Doctor turned to his son. “She's a keeper.”

“Piss off.”

“Enough,” Daisy said, taking hold of both of them. “Family hug. Gran, get over here. That's it. Next time we're grabbing you, Ellie.”

She almost dropped the phone she was using to take a picture. “What?”

The Doctor laughed, enjoying the teasing. Family was good. He'd missed family, and he hated having to forget, but at least for right now, he didn't mind being domestic.


End file.
